


Falling Is Like This

by inadaze22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry Potter, Adult Hermione Granger, Adult Ron Weasley, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Astoria is alive, Auror Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, Character Growth, Cousins so many cousins, Draco Malfoy is a Good Parent, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Groping, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hermione stresses Rose out, In which the kids are not carbon copies of their parents, Kind of a slow burn, Magic, Making Out, Mild Language, Neither does Scorpius, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, POV Rose Weasley, POV Scorpius Malfoy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Ron is a good father, Rose and Lily are complicated, Rose does not do emotions, Rose has the emotional range of a teaspoon like her dad, Rose is a daddy's girl, Rose is a late bloomer, Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter Friendship, Scorpius is great, Slytherin Rose Weasley, There's a mystery afoot, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), best friends Al and Scorpius, parents learn things too, side pairings exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-09-26 00:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 217,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadaze22/pseuds/inadaze22
Summary: Rose Weasley's life is all about routine and passing fancies; that is, until she witnesses something that changes everything. On her quest to find answers, Rose will learn that there are many ways to fall, and no way to avoid it.





	1. The World's Worst Birthday Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   

> 
> _I built the bridge across the stream of consciousness_  
_It always seems to be a flowing, but I don't know which way my brain is going_  
**Wordplay - Jason Mraz**

**Chapter One—The World's Worst Birthday Proposition**

Rose decided that if one more of her dad's old team-mates threw an arm over her shoulder and said: "Nine more years until you turn thirty, Old Rose," she would black the fuck out. And when she came to, bad things would have happened.

There would be blood.

And lots of it.

Mum used to say that getting older was akin to becoming happier. _"You'll begin to know yourself,"_ she'd told Rose the day before her seventeenth birthday, _"Your boundaries will coalesce, and your openness will expand, all at the same time."_ Her mother's esoteric abstractions were what infuriated Rose most. She'd been twenty-one for nearly nineteen hours, but still felt like the same sixteen-year-old who had asked what it felt like to get older. Rose was still waiting for all that shrinking, expanding, and self-actualising stuff to happen.

Well, it wasn't going to happen tonight.

She was almost sure of it.

Every year - scratch that - every _fucking_ year, Rose was subjected to this brand of torture where everyone she knew, and many she didn't, crowded under a tent just outside the Burrow to celebrate not just her birthday, but the start of a brand new year. In five years, what had started as a one-time solution to the problem of two overlapping events—Rose's Sweet Sixteenth and the family's annual New Year's Eve celebration—had been turned into a complete freak show.

But of course, the party was going wonderfully for everyone who was not Rose.

Funny how that worked.

Laughter and conversation were punctuated by the clanking of champagne glasses and the warble of Daisy Bladvak cutting through the air. It wasn't much of a surprise to Rose that the makeshift dance floor was virtually empty, save for Uncle George and the gaggle of little kids he was jumping around with.

While the wizard standing in front of her made small talk, Rose let her eyes aimlessly wander the room. She hated small talk as much as she hated crowds, so the combination of small talk in the middle of the crowded tent was something she really wanted to bury.

And fast.

Rose caught her grandmum looking in her direction and whispering animatedly to her granddad, which was never a good thing. She was plotting—again. As far as grandmum was concerned, Rose was the worst kind of late bloomer: a lazy one. She worried most about Rose becoming the old lady with ten cats and a fondness for non-perishables. It was a ridiculous fear. Really.

For starts, she hated cats. And she wasn't completely hopeless when it came to relationships. She'd had boyfriends before. Plenty of them. Good ones, bad ones, boring ones, weird ones, and a few shady ones. Rose never took any of them seriously because they never stayed around longer than a couple of months; something that really worried her family. Part of the problem was that Rose had never been good at relationships, and she accepted the blame for it. She'd never been completely clear on how they worked, or if they were worth her time. It wasn't like she had many examples of how sane relationships worked.

Sure, her grandparents were stable, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the success of their marriage had something to do with two wars and the amount of time granddad spent in the shed. Hugo was asexual and couldn't be bothered with the opposite sex. Her cousins went through more 'serious relationships' than she went through Pepper-up potions during cold season. Oh, and her parents had gotten married because her mum had been sick of her dad.

_"Truthfully, he wouldn't leave me alone."_

Hugo busted out laughing while Rose just blinked. This was not the story she'd expected. _"What?"_

Her mother chuckled. _"He kept randomly saying 'I'm gonna marry you.' I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself, but after a year of it, I finally said 'Prove it' to shut him up."_

It was a wonder Rose wasn't living on a farm in the country, wearing a floral pink muumuu and feeding her twelve kids porridge.

She shuddered at the thought.

"Are you cold?"

Rose jerked her head up at the sound of a male voice. She tilted her head to the side, trying desperately to recall his name. She really should know. They'd been talking for the last—she checked her new watch— ten minutes. "Oh, I'm fine. The Warming charms are perfect…." Her words trailed off when she met her grandmum's excited eyes. Rose died a little on the inside when she beamed and nudged her granddad, who was more interested in his cake. Rose manoeuvred herself so she couldn't feel the weight of her stare.

"Everything okay?" the wizard asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Oh, just fine, but I'm pretty sure that my Nan's planning our wedding. Is she still looking over here?"

He snorted in an attempt to cover his laughter, but his shoulders were shaking when he answered, "Yes, she is."

"Just try not to look like you're having a good time. So what were you saying before?"

Another snort quickly followed her request, but he quickly fell back into—well, whatever they had been discussing before. It was only a matter of seconds before Rose's attention drifted to something else, like trying to find other familiar faces in the crowd. Strangely enough, there were just as many 'famous people' there as second and third cousins twice removed whose names she couldn't recall.

She saw Hugo sitting at a nearby table between Lorcan and Lysander, James and his girl-of-the-week were sneaking out the tent, Scorpius and his date were across the room in deep discussion—probably about serious current affairs, and Albus was out there somewhere. Thankfully, the parental units were still out of sight. Good. Rose definitely wasn't happy with them now.

Following the birthday ritual of singing, blowing out candles, and cutting quite possibly the largest cake she'd ever seen, her mother had given Rose instructions to go mingle – alone. While Rose knew her mum had her best intentions at heart, what she failed to understand was that sending her off on her own wasn't a good idea. Not at all. She always needed someone present to make sure she didn't make an arse of herself. If Rose was famous for anything, it was for her ability to butcher the English language when forced into social situations.

"…isn't that strange?"

What? Oh. Rose smiled. "Yes, it was. So…" she trailed off, still unable to remember his name. Quinn? Quant? Quartz?

"Quincy." He gave Rose a dazzling smile that made her cheeks redden.

Truthfully, it was really hard to remember his name when he was towering over her and looking at her intensely. He was giving her one of those 'I know everything about you, even though we've never met' looks. Rose, unfortunately, was quite familiar with that look. It was one of the many curses of being the daughter and niece of war heroes. And with her grandmum's eyes burrowing a hole into the back of her skull, the look he was giving her didn't make her any more comfortable. When he approached her, Rose had done everything to act indifferent to his proximity and to his blue eyes. She obviously was a great actress, or else he'd pretended not to notice her discomposure.

Either way, it really was criminal for a man to be so attractive.

Rose smiled and carefully swept her auburn bangs aside. It was a completely useless act, but it made her feel better. Slightly. "Sorry about that. I've met a lot of people tonight. It doesn't help that I'm horrid at names."

"Understandable."

A brief pause later, she mustered enough courage to ask, "So, Quincy, what do you do?"

"I'm a model for Playwitch."

Her eyes bugged. "You do know I'm not a model, right? I wanted to be one when I was ten. I have a good walk, but I'm too short and like eating too much. And we know how that works in the industry—oh. Not to say that you don't eat. And I'm not a glutton or anything, but…bugger."

Quincy's smile was wide.

"I ramble, sorry."

"You don't have to apologise. I think it's cute."

Rose would've blushed if she didn't feel so weird. "In an awkward way, I'm sure."

Leaning closer with an intact smile, he said, "No, just cute. Like you."

_Really smooth, Quincy_, Rose thought sarcastically. Too bad she couldn't get those words out. Probably because she couldn't shake the idea that he was actually sincere. "Umm…" After unsuccessfully willing herself to say something sassy, she gave a half-hearted sigh. She was never any good at intentional wit. Or accepting compliments. Or flirting back. Or anything like that. "I think I need a drink."

"What's that in your hand?" he pointed out.

"An empty flute…all gone. I'm suddenly—nice to meet you, Quincy." With that, Rose made her way over to the cake table and cut herself a large piece—her third of the night. And after briefly searching the room, she spotted an empty table in the corner of the room and out of her grandmum's sight. Quickly, she sat down. She couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a time when she didn't feel extremely weird when someone admired her. Especially good looking wizards.

Every thought vacated her mind when she took a bite of moist birthday cake.

"Hi, Rose!"

She bit down on the fork, cursing to herself as Lily sat down. "Hai," she muttered. What did she want?

"I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Despite having a mouth full of cake, she replied, "Vou habbn't."

Lily wrinkled her nose, trying to cover her disgust. "Right. Well, I've spent my last few weeks in a number of studios, collaborating with various singers. I must've written over thirty songs in the last six weeks. It's exhausting, yet rewarding, but such is life as a songwriter."

With a number one single, Daisy Bladvak had taken Lily from writing terrible jingles for commercials on the Wireless to writing terrible songs for all the top pop artists. In Rose's opinion, it was a lateral jump that just happened to pay a lot more.

Rose gestured to her cake, silently asking if she wanted any and hoping that she would accept. Anything to shut her up. Of course Lily killed all hope of a quiet existence when she said, "I don't want any cake, unless it's strawberry… is it strawberry?"

"No, but it is good," she answered in between bites. "I can go and—"

She shook her head. "No, I was thinking that we could sit here and catch up."

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. "Huh?"

"Yes, like where do you—oh that's right, Al told me you quit your job in Floo Regulations, just yesterday, right?"

"Yes." Rose stabbed the cake.

She was going to kill Albus…or hire someone that would.

"Four jobs in one year, that's a record, even for you."

Or maybe she would just kill Lily and get it over with.

Lily smiled and flipped her wavy red hair over her shoulder. "I really think this is your year Rose. The year you find a career that you love, so that you can be just as happy and successful as I am."

That insincere—Rose started to shove another piece of cake into her mouth just as an attractive wizard walked towards their table. Oh fuck. What was his name, again? Fon—Re—Alfonzo! The tall bloke with the crooked smile her dad had introduced to her. He'd given Rose an excited—not one but two—'thumbs up' as if she should've jumped into his arms and shoved her tongue down Alfonzo's throat right there.

Clearly, Rose had missed something important.

With a sort of grace she never thought a man his height could possess, Alfonzo slipped into the chair next to her. "So we meet again."

A smirk crept across her face at his corny greeting. "It looks like it."

Alfonzo touched her shoulder. "They say the second time is always better."

He was making it easy for her to reject him for the second time. Rose brushed him off. "I'm positive that the third time is actually the charm. So, why don't you walk away and—"

Lily gave her a rather hard 'introduce me' nudge that made Rose wince and cut a death stare in her cousin's general direction. However, the look softened when she came up with the perfect plan that would kill—get rid of two birds with one stone. "Alfonzo." Her eyes had a mind of their own and rolled involuntarily. "This is my cousin, Lily Potter."

Alfonzo politely shook her hand. "The daughter of the Harry Potter?"

Her cousin's smile was disturbingly bright. "Yes."

"Nice meeting you." And then, to Rose's surprise and Lily's shock, Alfonzo completely dismissed her. She could almost feel the steam of Lily's anger when he said, "So Rose, I was wondering if you would like to dance."

Dance? With him? She inwardly snorted. Not if she could help it. Alfonzo was about as intriguing as a fruit basket. And her dad liked him. Enough said, really. "Oh, I'll have to pass on that intriguing offer, but I'm sure Lily here will be more than willing to take my place."

Alfonzo looked disappointed, but stood and took her cousin's extended hand. As they started towards the dance floor, he turned to say something—probably to ask if she would reconsider—but Lily pulled him away. Rose tried not to laugh at the strange look Alfonzo gave her. Lily was his problem, at least for the next few minutes.

Success.

* * *

Rose crossed her legs at the knee and enjoyed the freedom that came with Lily's absence. She tried to relax in her chair, but the music and the few glimpses of Lily dancing like a moron made that difficult, nevertheless she was determined. Once Lily returned, Rose would be right back to stuffing her face with birthday cake while she babbled on endlessly about a four minute dance. Although, now that Rose thought about it, she could handle that sort of thing. It was behaviour typical of Lily.

The whole 'let's chat like we're the closest cousins in the world' thing…was not.

It was actually quite frightening.

When it came down to it, Rose clearly didn't know her cousin well because Lily returned from her dance with Alfonzo more chatty and incorrigible than ever. "Do you know who that was?! That was the Alfonzo Plumpton! I danced with Alfonzo Plumpton." Grinning, she dropped back into her seat as if she weighed nothing at all.

Rose blinked. "Okay…"

"His great grandfather is Roderick Plumpton. He made the fastest snitch-catch, ever! It only makes sense that he's the Seeker for the Montrose Magpipes." It wasn't that Lily was a big Quidditch fan; she was a fan of the good-looking wizards who played. For a second, they watched dark-haired wizard with his friends. One of them punched him in the arm and said something that made him frown. "I think he's very cute."

Rose agreed reluctantly and silently. "He looks sort of like Peter McLaggen—too bad he's probably just as much of a pompous wanker."

"You're too judgmental, Rose. You don't even know him."

"True, but I do know his kind. Overly beautiful and arrogant people are usually idiots. Why? Because our universe, in general, is fair."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

She had a light bulb moment. "Is he single?"

Her cousin tsked. "Of course he is, but I'm not so sure why. He's one of the most famous Quidditch players in Britain. Any witch would be lucky to have him."

And now Rose knew why her dad had introduced them. He hadn't let go of the dream—or nightmare, in Rose's opinion—that his little Rosie would grow up and marry a Quidditch player. Like him.

She snorted at the thought.

Conversation moved on to Lily describing every detail of their dance, and then to her gossiping about everyone at the party—and even those who weren't. After what felt like hours of non-stop chattering, Rose seriously considered strangling her, but knew it would only end with tears, a torn family, and many years in Azkaban. Not worth it. At least not at the moment. Certainly her mind had to change before the night was over, right? Right. Besides, strangling someone took time and effort that could be put into other things.

Like seeing how fast she could eat this piece of birthday cake.

"Alfonzo told me that the lead singer of The Veelas is dating his best friend, who just so happens to be a Chaser for the Montrose Magpipes," she babbled. "I bet it won't even last a month. She'll smother him to death. I worked with her just last week on their new album, and I know for a fact that she hates being single. We even wrote a song together about it!"

Rose shoved another forkful of cake into her mouth. Seriously, what did she want?

"Mum told me that Minister Havelock is furious that his daughter is dating the Seeker for the Tutshill. You know, I actually met him tonight - they're both around here somewhere. I saw them while dancing I was dancing with Alfonzo. They look nice together and they seem happy. I'm not sure what Minister Havelock's issue is." She leaned closer. "Oh, and between you and me, I've seen a lot of pictures of him in Witch Weekly, but he's even more attractive in person."

Despite being cousins, they had never been close, not like she and Albus were. So, being around Lily for no reason was as strange as a mosh-pit at a Celestine Warbeck concert. Lily wanted something— that much she knew, but she didn't know what.

"Oh, and have you seen Scorpius' date for the evening?"

Rose's focus was currently on trying to figure out what she would do now that the last fudge treat was in her mouth. Fortunately, she'd heard enough of Lily's question to give a short nod in response. Scorpius had come with Henrietta Sweeting, who was infamous for breaking quills during tests and having tea stains on her clothes. Henrietta was in Rose's year, but was a Ravenclaw, like Scorpius. They'd had Arithmancy and Ancient Runes together, but weren't more than passing acquaintances. She always had a feeling that Henrietta didn't like her. Rose didn't know if it was because she was a Slytherin or because she often barged in on her and Scorpius' study sessions while they were in school.

Those Ravenclaws knew how to hold a grudge, especially if it involved their academics.

"I know they came together as friends, but like you, Rose, he can do so much better."

She continued to chew and nod along until—wait a second. "Wike mwe?"

Lily frowned. "It's no wonder you can't keep a serious boyfriend."

"Vat's dat sufpoosed—" Rose held up one finger and quickly swallowed the cake before she tried again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

She highly doubted that.

Lily rested her elbow on the table and laid her cheek against her fist. "Speaking of Scorpius, I've been wondering something all night…" Ah, here it was. The moment Rose would finally find out why she had to endure excruciatingly long minutes of Lily torture. She gave her cousin an expectant, 'go on' look. It was probably another one of her inane questions about Scorpius. She'd been asking a lot of questions about him lately. "Well, do you think you could set us up?"

Rose looked all around, expecting to see James and his group of knuckleheaded friends hiding in various areas of the room, armed with Extendable Ears and laughing their arses off. When she didn't see anyone out of the ordinary, her mind kicked into overdrive. James must've Polyjuiced his sister, hid her, and was using her to get—no. That made no sense. Well, Rose hadn't worked that far into his dastardly plan, but that had to be it, right? Polyjuice had to be the reason why Lily was asking her to set her up with Scorpius, of all people.

Wait a second.

She wasn't stupid. James couldn't imitate all of his sister's little quirks that annoyed Rose most. The way she flipped her hair and smiled, or the way her voice made her want to claw out her eyes.

Those things couldn't be faked.

So maybe she was part of the plan, after all. But why? And—

"Before you go all 'detective' on me, this is not some crazy plan my brother cooked up to throw you off balance." Lily assured. "I'm actually very serious. I like Scorpius. I like his hair, his personality, the way his lips pout—"

"Lips pout—what?"

"Yes! And so much more. I've liked him for a while, but Al said he won't help me because he 'knows' Scorpius isn't interested." She rolled her eyes. "I figure with the new year coming, I could change the way he sees me. You could talk me up to him, and maybe—"

"Do not say another word." This was one of the most bizarre conversations she'd ever had. It was right up there with the time mum had decided to use diagrams and flow charts to explain where babies came from. "Let me see if I understand this. You like Scorpius. Al refuses to set you up with him. And rather than approaching him yourself, you decide that pestering me for sixteen minutes would make me want to do you a favour? Do I understand this correctly?"

Lily smiled. "Perfectly!" Clearly, she was under the heavy delusion that Rose was her buddy, confidante, and sidekick in all matters amatory. "Now," she continued. "I was thinking that you could start talking about my best attributes—"

"Are you _insane_?!"

She was almost certain that a relationship between Scorpius and Lily went against one of the natural precepts of the universe; or broke one of the golden friendship rules that said: _Friends don't let friends date_ _Lily Potter_. Rose briefly wondered what drugs were pumping through Lily's system to even make her think that she would be a good match for him.

"What do you mean?" Lily looked confused.

Rose pointed at herself, like maybe there was a chance that someone else was sitting next to her that she hadn't noticed…and Lily was talking to them. "You want me to—"

"Set me up with Scorpius. We've been through this already."

After blinking at her for several moments, Rose sat back in her chair and said nothing. While Lily used the strange silence that followed to make sure that her hair was perfect and hum along to the awful song playing, Rose scanned the room for a champagne tray, but found something that brought a relieved smile to her face. It was salvation, in the form of Scorpius Malfoy, walking towards the table, armed with two glasses of champagne. Bless him. She was determined to put Lily's request out of her mind and enjoy the evening, but first…

As soon as Scorpius set the flutes down, Rose picked them up and guzzled them down in a flash.

"I was planning on drinking both of them." Scorpius informed her.

Stingy beast. "Sorry, but my needs were greater than yours. Trust me."

He started to argue, but something caught his attention. Rose followed his line of vision to Lily, who looked like a jungle cat on the prowl. Of course, she'd seen that look several times before, but it was only now that she understood what it meant. Oh, shit. Rose jerked her head to him. Oh, buggering shit.

Scorpius' eyebrow came out of hiding from behind black-rimmed glasses. "You know, I just might." He cleared his throat. "Are you all right, Lily? You look hungry."

"I am hungry, but not for food." Lily gave him her best seductive look, which actually made her eyes look like they were about to pop out of her head. Rose was waiting for her to snap her teeth at him, but something better happened. Lily had the nerve to ask, "Aren't you hungry, Scorpius?"

An incredulous bemusement twisted his features. "I'm a vegetarian."

Naturally, Rose's face turned bright red as she strained not to laugh. Lily was still smiling, which meant she didn't fully understand and that made it all the better. Scorpius had a talent of cutting someone down without them realising it. He'd inherited what Aunt Ginny called 'the Malfoy drawl' and it made everyone focus on his tone instead of his words. If they had paid any attention, they would notice that his sarcasm was often as dry as the desert with twice the venom of a snake.

He would've done well in Slytherin with her.

"Henrietta, Al, and I were discussing the relationship between Arithmancy and Muggle Probability. She seems to think there are no significant similarities and I thought you might have an opinion."

Or maybe not.

"You're seriously having a discussion about numbers at a party? Don't get me wrong, I love everything about numbers, but there's a time and a place for everything…and this isn't it."

Scorpius smirked. "Actually, they were debating it. I was more than happy to stand there and commit the sight of you running away from that bloke to memory."

Rose stuck out her tongue, which only made his smile widen.

And to think she considered him as her best friend. She folded her arms petulantly, but inwardly cringed. Best friend. She never did like the label. It was immature and created a strange possessiveness, which diminished the intensity of the feelings of loyalty involved in a friendship as close as theirs. 'Best friend' was okay to say when she was ten, but Rose felt it lost its linguistic fervour as she aged.

"I'll have you know that I'm a lot more socially graceful than you think," she informed haughtily.

He blinked. "You're about as socially graceful as a—"

"Do not finish that sentence if you want to live."

She never understood their friendship, but never questioned it because she was a believer in 'whatever works'. She and Scorpius? They worked. Where she was belligerent and restless, he was easy-going and patient. Rose often resented the stigmas and expectations that came with being a Weasley, but there were a lot more that came with being a Malfoy and Scorpius seemed unaffected. Over the years, she'd adopted his way of thinking...and it made things easier for her. One of the best things about Scorpius was that he was intelligent without being pretentious, reserved without being dull, and one of the few people her age who knew that an ostrich's eye was bigger than its brain.

"Where's Al?"

"Somewhere around here with Henrietta. Come on, we'll dance, then we'll go find them." He reached for her hand, she offered the other, and let him pull her from the seat. Unfortunately for Rose, Scorpius' tug was a bit hard and it sent her clumsily crashing into him. Her forehead hit his chin and she caught a whiff of his cologne—something spiced and warm.

"Ow!" Rose rubbed her head, frowning. "Were you trying to knock me senseless?"

"I didn't know you had sense in the first place."

She blew raspberries at him. "Ha, ha. Really funny, Rock-chin."

He flashed a typical, relaxed-Scorpius grin. "I try my best." Rose punched him in the arm as hard as she could, which caused him to wince and glare. "That actually hurt. Do it again and I'll leave your violent arse here."

Unrepentantly, she cackled on.

That was until he mouthed the two words that silenced her. "With her."

Rose pouted. "If I'd known eight years ago how evil you really were I'm not sure I would have befriended you."

"You befriended me? How quickly we forget things—"

"Blah, blah, blah," she cut him off while making faces. "It's my birthday, and I refuse to hear the story about how I was some charity case you spent time with on a whim of kind-heartedness."

"That's what happened!"

"Exactly, only Al was sick with Spattergroit during your visit to the Burrow before third year. Your dad was out of the country, and your mum wasn't even an option, so you were stuck with nothing to do but read your books and be pestered by James and Lily. And I—on a whim of kind-heartedness—saw your anguish," at that, he rolled his eyes, "and begged my parents to take you in like a stray so that I could introduce your deprived arse to the wonderful world of Muggle movies."

"I like my version better." Scorpius ran a hand through his medium blond hair.

Rose quietly thought that it should be a crime for a bloke to have better hair than her. "I bet you do, probably because it doesn't involve you sniffling at the end of—"

He covered her mouth. "For the last time, I have allergies!"

She rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could.

"I think," he let go of her mouth. "We should take this argument out on the—"

"Or maybe, I could step in for you again, Rose," Lily piped in. "Like I did last time."

Rose had completely forgotten that she was still sitting there. She looked over her shoulder to address her, but snapped her mouth shut when she saw her messy-haired cousin lounging in the chair next to his sister. Just where had Al come from? A strange feeling tried to rise in her chest, but she stopped it by smiling brightly. "Al! How long have you been sitting there?"

"Since 'Rock-chin'."

"Where's Henrietta?" Scorpius asked, briefly looking around.

"I still believe you should know that." Rose poked him in the chest. "She's your date, after all."

He straightened his glasses. "Well, I've been here with—"

"Actually," Albus interjected. "She wanted to help Uncle George prepare the midnight fireworks."

Rose laughed. "Only because Scorpius is such a crummy date."

Before he could retort, the crowd of conversing guests parted, and out of it emerged her father. The look on his face was very Rose-oriented—a mix of frustration, affection, and worry with a bit of blind optimism thrown in sparingly for luck. She'd already seen it twice tonight and wanted no part in whatever was going on.

Especially if it had something to do with her.

Rose considered diving under the table, but she wasn't in the mood to hand Scorpius and Al another thing to make fun of her about. Besides, she didn't want to ruin her dress. Rose had dedicated more than enough time and energy to manipulating—wait, convincing the clerk at La Femme Boutique to sell the overpriced black and cerulean robes to her for only four Galleons.

After releasing a resigned sigh, Rose waved at her dad.

He gave her a rather harried smile and gestured for her to come over. Rose frowned, excused herself, and went to him. Her dad kissed her on the temple, which reluctantly brought a smile to her face. Rose was—and always would be—a daddy's girl, at least until the end of eternity. It was quite pathetic. "C'mon, Rosie Posey—" at that she glowered while he just beamed. "Your mum wants to talk to you."

"Not that I mind an excuse to get away from this terrible music or out of letting Scorpius embarrass me on the dance floor, but what's going on?"

"Not here." When the song changed and the sound of Daisy Bladvak singing yet another Christmas song filled the room, Dad made the face he always made when mum bought him sugarless candy. "The music is terrible, isn't it?"

"Terrible doesn't even begin to cover it," she balked. "It made me consider ritualistic suicide. Twice."

He paused, mid-step. "Don't let your mum, Lily…or anyone hear you say that."

"I, at least, have some tact, dad. Give me some credit."

"Key word: some."

He had a point. That much she couldn't argue. "Okay, how's this? I promise that for the rest of the night, I won't say anything rude—"

"Or sarcastic."

She rolled her eyes and repeated with a sigh, "Or sarcastic."

"Good." He wrapped his arm around his daughter and hugged her against him as they walked out of the tent and into the Burrow.

Silent moments between them were rare, but this was almost peaceful and reflective. Rose found herself rewinding her day; past the bantering with Scorpius, past being trapped with Lily, and past the beginning of the New Year's party of doom. She stopped it during the hour she'd spent with her family, opening gifts.

It was the best part of the day.

By the time she'd finished opening gifts, she had a dozen cards with Gringott's deposit receipts, a knitted scarf from her grandmother, another fifty Galleons from Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry that would be used to purchase her very first sofa and coffee table, books from Albus, two movies from Hugo, a remote that ran on magic from the ever-practical Scorpius, a watch made from butterbeer caps from Mrs. Luna, and two front row tickets to a Daisy Bladvack concert from Lily.

Truthfully, it had been a pretty good day. No one had pulled her aside for the 'I'm worried about you, Rose' talk, dad had only given her 'the look' three times (a record), and mum hadn't given her the third degree for quitting her job in Floo Regulations.

Life was good.

It all changed when she stood in the doorway of the drawing room where her mum sat with that therapist look on her face. After checking the room for copies of Pea Soup for the Witch's Soul, she crossed the threshold, confident that this was no intervention.

"Come on in," her mum said in a very nurturing tone.

Rose instantly had a flashback to the night she'd announced that she was dropping out of Auror Academy…six months into the program. Her memories skipped back further to when she was nine and dreamed of being a famous ballerina, much to her dad's horror. It had lasted for six weeks, precisely when she realised how fucked up their feet were. And then there was the time she—

Mum cleared her throat, patting the seat next to her. The worst seat in the entire room.

Of course, Rose eyed the recliner, but her dad quickly plopped down and started playing with the lever, which earned him a stern glare from her mum. She tried not to giggle.

"Come sit." With a reluctant sigh, Rose dragged herself across the room, sat down, and picked at her cuticles until her mother's hand covered hers. "Rose, let's talk."

There wasn't much she could do in this situation. "Okay…"

And then her mum looked at her dad. "Would you like to take the lead on this, Ron?"

To which he replied with reclining the chair as far back as it would go.

"I'll take that as a no—"

"A hell no, actually."

Dad always knew just what to say to set mum off, and effectively take all the attention off of Rose. She, of course, didn't mind. And she didn't mind their squabbling, either. Yes, squabbling. It wasn't fighting, per se. They never really fought in the traditional sense of the word. Fighting involved the hurling of hurtful words, and according to everyone, they'd done enough of that when they were younger.

"Just once it would nice if you took some initiative…."

Still, listening to them was like watching two tree sloths race: amusing, absolutely, but Rose never really learned the purpose. Like now. Mum was criticising him because he wasn't taking initiative, but it wasn't in his nature to do such a thing. And for her to carp now was sort of like fussing at the sun after getting sunburned. Rose was far from the most observant person in the world, but she knew that dad was about as laid-back as they came. He supported mum, kept her from going off the deep end, but he never actively participated in her madness.

"I'm here, aren't I?" her dad pointed out. "I voted against this, remember? And here I am, so let's get on with it before we miss the countdown and fireworks."

"And the ringing in of the New Year is more important than our daughter?"

"Yes!" He then looked at Rose and said, "No offence, Rosie."

She shrugged. "None taken."

Her mum rolled her eyes. "Well, forgive me for keeping you away from picking some young tart—"

With a smirk that looked sort of familiar, dad waggled his eyebrows and said, "I only have one witch on my midnight snog list. She's incredibly bossy and, not to mention, brilliant. She has bushy hair and—"

"Okay, ew," Rose covered her eyes. How sickening! "I can leave if you two would like to be alone."

"No. I have something for you." Her mother's cheeks were a little red when she presented her with a little box. When Rose started to question what was in it, she gently said, "Just open it. It's our gift to you."

So she did, and was instantly confused. She held the card up. "I know what this is, but for laughs, can someone please explain to me why there is a St. Mungo's identification card in this box?" Rose looked closer. "And where did you get this picture of me? It's ghastly!"

Naturally, her mother ignored her final question. "I pulled some strings and got you a job as a Healer's assistant—"

"You what?" Rose shrilled. "Better yet, why? I can't work at St. Mungo's!"

"Why not?" Her dad looked just as intrigued as her mum, which was not a good thing.

"Everyone knows that if you're not an experienced Healer, the shifts are long and the pay is unspeakably bad." She told them candidly. "Besides working there will cut into my allotted ravenous-reading, movie-marathoning, savvy-shopping, and aimless-alliterating time. And I just can't have that."

Her logical mother had to input with: "Well, aren't you always saying that you have to try something for at least six months to really—"

Stubbornly, she folded her arms. "Not with this, I don't."

"You never know, you may like it," her dad inserted with a half-shrug.

"Et tu, Brute?" Rose accused, the beginnings of a pout forming on her face. When he returned with a blank stare, she rolled her eyes. That wasn't going to work. Her mother was staring with a humoured gleam in her eyes that made Rose want to scream. "Argh! Mum, I appreciate this, but I'm actually certain that I won't like it. I hear enough horror stories from Scorpius as is."

Her mum's face lit up. "Ah, that's right! He just started two months ago! That's another reason why you should give this a shot." And when Rose just blinked, she added, "Didn't you want to be a Healer at some point?"

"When I was seven! I also wanted to be an astronaut, a reporter for The Daily Prophet, a comedian, a Potions Mistress, an archaeologist, a professor at Hogwarts, a princess, a deep sea diver, an Auror, a food critic, a ninja, an Obliviator, a photographer, a treasure hunter, the Minister of Magic, an inventor, a—"

"Didn't you want to be an architect?" Dad piped in.

"Until I realised I couldn't draw!" she shrilled.

He laughed. "You didn't even make it six months in cello lessons, either." And his smile faulted slightly, "Come to think of it, I can't think of one thing you've kept up with longer than six months."

With an infuriating smile on her face, her mother patted her hand and said, "I have a proposition that will change that."

Rose didn't like the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Banner by K Writes Dramione


	2. Lies And Recurring Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This conversation_   
_Information that you wanted me to share_   
_But I didn't want to be there_   
_So I'll grant you one wish that won't come true._   
**This Conversation is Over – Acceptance**

**Chapter Two — Lies and Recurring Dreams**

Scorpius wanted to travel the world. He wanted to visit the Kremlin in Russia, float along the waters of Venice in a gondola, stand in front of the statues on Easter Island, walk through the ruins of Pompeii, ponder the deeper meaning behind the design of the Zen Garden of Kyoto, and experience everything that was Reykjavik, Iceland.

It was strange for a Malfoy to have such dreams, but Aunt Daphne loved the idea. She often rambled about self-discovery and feeding the human soul with inspiration. Scorpius figured that her Elf-wine induced babblings were code for: _"Don't let your family force you to marry the first rich coot that throws Galleons around after the war or else you'll end up like me: miserable with too many children."_

Or something like that.

The rest of his family, however, were harder to convince. When Scorpius announced that he wanted to do some travelling, they all had incorrectly assumed that he would be using his trust to fund the trip. So when his father only regarded him with a raised eyebrow before he continued chewing on his steak, every one of his close relative got together and decided that since his father wasn't going to ask any questions, they would. They began bombarding Scorpius for details about accommodations, an organised agenda for each week of his travels, and thorough financial reports.

Ever since before he could remember, his entire family had been fanatical about making sure that he had enough sense to not squander the family's wealth after the elders were dead and gone. They also were completely obsessed with the idea of Scorpius marrying a high-class, pure-blooded witch from a powerful family.

Scorpius refused to even _think_ about that.

He figured they would relax when he explained that he wouldn't be using any of his trust money for his travels, but that knowledge only upset them more.

_"Malfoys always travel in style and never travel light,"_ his mother told him on her last visit as they walked the Manor's gardens. _"You simply cannot do that on your insufficient salary, Scorpius."_ He had half the mind to tell her that she hadn't been part of the family in years and that it was too late for her to start being his mother, but thought better. He loved his mother despite their rocky relationship and her many flaws.

Needless to say, talking to his family was one of those lose-lose situations that Father had told to him about. There was no point in trying to change any of their stubborn minds. The men in his family lived by strategy and logistics, the women had a hand in their husband's pockets but firm foothold on the ground, and _everyone_ always asked the question he hated most: _"Why?"_

And Rose always wondered why he was always so damn practical. Every time he dared to sway from the pragmatic and mundane, he could hear all their nagging voices in his head resonating, _"Why?"_

Logic and sensibility had been ingrained into his life since birth, and it worked well for him, but he'd learned that sometimes it was okay _not_ to have a plan for everything. When Scorpius explained that to his sensible grandmother, she had shook her head, as if dealing with an ignorant child, and chanted her personal motto: _"A structured life leads to less stress and more success."_

But as the countdown to the New Year started and anticipation all around him started to peak, Scorpius ignored Lily's batting eyelashes, casually shoved a grinning Albus, and disagreed.

_"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! …"_

He thrived on chaos, lived for the stress that came along with it, and loved every second of it. His most successful moments on the Quidditch pitch at school and as a Healer had been during moments of utter pandemonium when his heart threatened to hammer its way through his ribcage, and adrenaline rushed through his veins and raised the hair on the backs of his arms. And while pragmatism and sensibility provided stability and comfort, Scorpius felt more alive while counting down the seconds than he had in the last five hours.

_"Four! Three! Two! One! … Happy New Year!"_

The room erupted. Scorpius was blinded by a downpour of colourful confetti and nearly deafened by the sounds of drums and balloons that were charmed to pop to the Muggle tune, Auld Lang Syne.

It was a sensory overload at it's very finest, and he revelled in it.

However, the moment Al disappeared in the crowd, his sister went in for the kill….

When Scorpius turned seventeen, his father sat him down in his private study, poured him a glass of fine scotch, and said, _"Give a witch an inch and she thinks she's a ruler."_

It wasn't until he turned—nearly too late—to avoid starting the new year with his lips firmly attached to Lily's that Scorpius began to think that Father was right. Lily gave him a puzzled look, smiled, and tried again. That time, Scorpius held her at arm's length. "Look—"

"Oh, come on, Score!" She didn't notice when his jaw clenched involuntarily at that nickname. Lily was the only person who called him 'Score'. Well, Rose did, but only when she was actively trying to annoy him. "Live a little. Indulge in an old tradition!"

"Not all traditions need to be kept because of longevity."

And with that, Scorpius sidestepped her and made a clean exit.

After leaving Lily, everything was a blur of hugs and handshakes, hard pats on the back and pecks on the cheek. He waited until the tent was nearly empty before joining everyone outside for the fireworks display.

The temperature was chilly—albeit tolerable—and there was a hum of energy and magic in the air. It felt like the anticipation about the year to come and hope had collided and mingled before condensing into a casual atmosphere. As Scorpius made his way through the hordes of guests, he searched for a familiar face, but didn't find one until he emerged from the back of the crowd.

Henrietta was sitting on the grass, legs folded politely under her black dress robes. She regarded him with a warm smile and gestured for him to sit next to her. Thanks to several days without rain, the grass was dry and he sat without worrying about stains on his robes. They were nearly impossible to remove.

"I heard you snubbed Lily Potter," she said matter-of-factly, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears.

Scorpius frowned. "Where did you hear that?"

"From Al." she picked at an imaginary piece of lint from her dress. "Well, Al heard it from his mum, who heard it from Hugo, who heard it from _his_ grandmother, who actually saw the snub take place."

"I'm almost _certain_ that she has eyes in the back of her head."

Henrietta laughed. "And a proclivity for matchmaking. She's determined to see you with one of her granddaughters. Since you and Rose are such good friends, it makes sense that she would push you toward Lily."

Scorpius shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather walk over hot coals…or broken glass."

She snorted. "What's wrong with Lily? Besides the fact that she's…" He didn't understand why Henrietta was choosing her words so carefully. "Very much into herself."

He relaxed back on the palms of his hand. "There's nothing wrong with her. She's just not my type." Scorpius could almost hear the gears in her head churning and knew she was formulating a thought or question. He carefully changed the subject. "When are the fireworks supposed to start?"

"In a few minutes. I imagine they're almost finished setting up. So, why isn't she—?"

"She's just not," he clipped.

The problem was that Henrietta liked to dig into him with personal questions. As a Muggleborn, she found his lifestyle and upbringing incredibly interesting. And more than that, she thought of him as an enigma; a mystery, but Scorpius preferred not to be picked apart like a corpse before vultures.

He had a family that did that perfectly.

While in school, Scorpius used to talk to her freely, but his trust had waned when—on several occasions—he found her scribbling in her notepad after their conversations. It was especially unnerving when she started asking him to repeat what he'd said. It had never set well with the private wizard. He wasn't sure when, but Scorpius had constructed a 'Henrietta wall' around himself, restricting their conversations to more informal topics, such as academics or work.

"Al told me that you were helping set up."

"I was, but Lily came over and started taking her frustration with you out on everyone else, so I decided to excuse myself." Henrietta stared at him as if she were studying him before she calmly informed, "Al left to help Rose take her gifts home."

Scorpius couldn't help but notice how Henrietta's voice changed when she said Rose's name. He had always known that she didn't care for Rose; she'd never kept it a secret and Rose never really cared to notice. They butted heads about everything, probably because Henrietta was too conservative and Rose…well, _wasn't_. They were almost _too_ different to coexist. Scorpius secretly thought that Rose's nonchalant attitude and Henrietta's closed-mindedness had doomed them from the start.

"Apparently," she continued. "She left after a talk with her parents."

"I never pegged you as a gossipmonger, Henrietta."

"Gossip?" a familiar voice said from behind them. A _very_ familiar voice. Scorpius instinctively rolled his eyes before looking over his shoulder at Lily. Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Hugo Weasley was standing next to her, but he was busy talking to one of the Scamander twins—Scorpius could never tell them apart. "Who said something about gossip? I just love gossip!"

"It was nothing important, really." Henrietta smiled thinly.

"Pity," Lily sniffed and clasped her hands together. "So, we were walking around, trying to find the best place to watch the fireworks, and we—" Hugo cleared his throat and gave her a dirty look. Lily rolled her eyes. "Okay, I thought that this would be the perfect place."

_Of course she did_, Scorpius thought with another roll of his eyes.

"Well—" Henrietta started uncomfortably.

"Oh!" she covered her mouth. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything important."

Hugo snorted a little too loudly.

And while Scorpius fought back the urge to chuckle and Lily cut her eyes in her cousin's general direction, the Scamander twin and Henrietta exchanged confused looks.

"You weren't," he finally said after the awkward silence.

"Then you won't mind if we joined you?"

Henrietta opened her mouth, probably to tell her how much she minded, but Scorpius interrupted her smoothly. "You're more than welcome to join us." He stood and dusted the grass blades off his robes and straightened his gasses. "In fact, Lily, you can have my seat."

She blushed and sat down next to a blank-faced Henrietta. "But where will you sit?"

Scorpius gave her his very best smile and replied, "Right next to you…when I return."

But he never did.

* * *

People—namely his entire family, Henrietta, and most of the Ravenclaws from their year—had always asked him, _"Why Rose Weasley? Why in the hell are you friends with_ her_?"_

And Scorpius always responded with, "Why _not_ Rose?"

She was different from everything he knew—everything in which he was accustomed. Scorpius' life was the epitome of structured and formal, but Rose…. If it was possible to be so enigmatic and _interesting_ that people watched you and paid Galleons to read about your adventures in magazines all over the country, _that_ was Rose.

People who didn't know Rose loved her, while the people who knew her best worried about her. He never quite understood the basis for their concerns. Yes, she possessed an active imagination and a penchant for the dramatics, but she also had a wicked sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Sure, she had abysmal taste in books and quit more jobs than he could count on his fingers _and_ toes, but Rose was savvy and firm…when she wanted to be. People judged her almost as much as they judged him, but they underestimated her far more.

Why _wouldn't_ he want to be her friend?

He could always count on her to have something smart to say and to burn the first bag of popcorn on, well, _any_ night.

So, Scorpius wasn't too surprised when, upon entering her flat after leaving the party, he was greeted by the smell of charred popcorn and the sound of her voice.

"You are being _completely_ unreasonable, microwave!" Rose passionately raved. "If it weren't for the fact that you make popcorn taste so much better, I would've tossed you out! I saved you, and this is how you repay me!?"

He shook his head, loosened his tie, and removed his jacket, fanning himself. Rose had an aversion to being cold and kept her thermostat set on 'hell' during the winter months. He tossed his jacket on the back of her transfigured sofa and looked around. Her entire flat was small and desperately needed more furniture, but it was attractive and cosy. She'd picked the flat for the hardwood floors and the gallery-style kitchen that she barely used. Oh, and low rent, which shouldn't have been able to attain a car park in East Finchley.

Exactly how she managed that feat, he wasn't sure.

Al remained convinced she Confounded everyone, to which she replied with, _"When you're as persuasive as I am, you don't need magic."_

Scorpius snorted.

Rose let out an aggravated yell. "If putting in a bag of popcorn for two and a half minutes, and adding thirty seconds cooks it perfectly, then putting it in for three minutes shouldn't burn it!"

It also didn't help that Rose had a love/hate relationship with her kitchen appliances.

"This is a conspiracy! You want to keep me from my popcorn, but I won't let you! You will not win because I will not go quietly into the night!"

Scorpius could always tell her frustration level by what movie line she quoted. The older the movie, the more upset she was. A thirty year old movie quote, while bad, was completely manageable…with a little intervention. "I don't think the microwave cares, Rose."

"Because it's a—" There was a pause. "Wait a second." And Rose's head peeked out of the kitchen. There was a puzzled look on her face. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"Why aren't you at the party?" he retorted, giving her a pointed stare.

"I didn't want to see the fireworks," Rose replied rather flippantly and returned to the kitchen. As he followed her, he could hear the sound of her tossing the bag of popcorn into the rubbish bin. "Once you've seen one, you've seen them all."

Scorpius crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching her awkwardly muddle around the small kitchen. She'd changed into more comfortable clothes: a hot pink polka dotted shirt, black shorts, and bright yellow knee-high socks. "You're a terrible liar."

Rose opened another bag of popcorn and put it into the microwave. She pressed a button and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "I'm actually quite good. _You're_ just too observant. The truth is," she sighed. "I wasn't in the mood for fireworks."

"Because of the talk with your parents?"

She frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"Henrietta."

"Never pegged her for a gossipmonger."

Scorpius smirked. "Neither did I."

"The talk had nothing to do with me leaving. In fact, the talk wasn't so bad after all. I have a feeling that this will be the last intervention that my mum orchestrates."

"I highly doubt that."

The timer on the microwave went off and Rose went to retrieve her bag of popcorn. She shook the bag and patted the top of her microwave. "Actually, it will be. You see, my mum made me a proposition." Scorpius quirked an interested brow. "She got me a job as a Healer's assistant to some witch named…" Rose trailed off thoughtfully. "What _was_ her name, again? Blossom? No. Marigold? No. Shoshanna?"

He rolled his eyes. When it came to names, Rose had the memory of a goldfish.

Tapping her cheek with her finger, Rose tilted her head to the side. "Hmm…Shoshanna? I don't think that's right. I know it was some floral name, but I can't remember."

Scorpius snorted.

Rose held up the bag of popcorn. "Want some?"

He declined. "It always gets stuck in my teeth."

"You and your precious teeth." She rolled her eyes and walked past him. "You sound like my mum when she tried to give me a bag kernel-less popcorn. Please explain the purpose of popcorn without kernels, because I just don't get it!"

"Did you know that in Mexico, Muggle medicine men would throw the kernels into an open fire and tell the future according to their 'popping direction'?" He followed Rose to her sparsely furnished sitting room and sat on the sofa while she searched her bookshelf for a movie.

Rose just looked over her shoulder and blinked. "How did you _know_ that?"

"Muggle Studies."

"But you didn't even take it. I did! For the easy 'O'."

"Didn't you get an—"

"We _all_ know that Professor Clovenhoove had it out for me. I swear, you make up one story about Muggles and no one ever lets you live it down."

Scorpius smiled. "What movie are we watching?"

_"The Sword of Deception."_

Groaning, he rested his head back on the hard cushion. "Not again." Rose was going through a foreign language movie phase, which meant that she picked one movie with subtitles and watched it repeatedly.

For weeks, he'd been forced to watch the story of a sword forged by a psychotic blacksmith and a dark wizard that gradually possessed the mind of the king who wielded it. They watched him build his empire and destroy himself in the process. Of course, Rose wasn't drawn to the movie because of the obvious deeper meaning of the film. She just liked the sword fights. And Scorpius couldn't lie. He'd enjoyed the fights _and_ the lessons the movie had taught…the _first_ time he'd seen it. However, after nine times, he was ready to blow up the disc.

"But it's such a good movie! I personally like—"

"How one chance encounter can steer a good king on the path to destruction? How he starts to realise something is wrong with this sword and starts trying to save his humanity? Or how he throws himself into the volcano to save everyone from the sword?"

"None of that, really. I liked it when he chopped that man in half. That was cool." Rose dug into the cushions of the sofa for the remote and made herself comfortable by draping her legs over his lap.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, but never fussed.

"By the way, you never told me what the proposition was."

"Well, you kept getting me off topic." She poked him in the arm playfully. "Anyway, the proposition is simple. I'm going to take this job at St. Mungo's. And if I somehow manage to _not_ quit in the next six months and _one_ day, she'll leave me alone about…well, _everything_."

He straightened his glasses. "What happens if you lose?"

"I go back to the Auror Academy," Rose replied with a look of distaste on her face.

"But you hated it."

There was a determined gleam in her eyes when she said, "Which is precisely why I'm going to win." Still, Scorpius had his doubts, but Rose continued before he could voice them. "Another motivator is that my parents are going to give me an extra hundred Galleons every two weeks."

"Why?"

"Because being a Healer's Assistant doesn't pay enough for me to stay in my flat. And since my parents and I agree that me moving back home is not the answer, they're going to give me an extra two hundred Galleons every month—"

"That's nearly a thousand pounds, Rose! Your rent is—"

"I know that, and so do my parents. It was their suggestion. In fact, they started at four hundred Galleons and I had to talk them out of that ridiculousness. I think this is their way of putting extra money in my pockets so I can actually _furnish_ this place and stop "living risky", as my mum calls it. I would've argued it down further, but she had that look in her eye and I figured that further resistance was futile."

Once Rose started the dreaded movie, Scorpius thought about more about the proposition her parents had offered.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if either could hold up their end of the bargain. Contrary to Rose's beliefs, she and her mother were a lot alike. Besides being intelligent, stubborn, and resourceful, they both were ambitious…in different ways. There were two types of ambition: temporary and blind. Rose's ambition was temporary. She put her everything into something until she grew tired of it and quit. However, her mother's ambition was blind, which was the more dangerous of the two because the word 'quit' wasn't in her vocabulary.

Rose was under the impression that this proposition would be the end of a war they'd fought since she graduated from Hogwarts, but he knew that it was only the beginning.

* * *

Scorpius always had the same dream.

He couldn't remember much about it; just the feelings it elicited. He knew that he was on a beach with black sand, and he was never alone. In the four years he'd had this dream, not once had he ever seen her face. Still, Scorpius couldn't ignore the feeling that he knew her…from somewhere. And even when he felt himself waking up, he could still feel that satisfied sensation she elicited from him.

It was like he'd drunk a glass of water, unaware that he was even thirsty, and it hit the spot. That was what the dream was for him; whomever he was with just hit the spot.

Scorpius grunted when he opened his eyes. Sunrays were sneaking in through a small opening in the window shade and landing on his face. He stretched his arms up, engulfed in the cottony feel of the blanket, and his eyes started to adjust to the light. Scorpius didn't even panic about where he was.

He just _knew_.

What he didn't know was what the hell had happened. One minute he was listening to Rose ramble about the movie, and the next his neck was reciting a tale of uncomfortable sleep. Scorpius stretched his arms over his head again, trying to rid himself of stiffness. Then, he rolled on his side and his arm hit flesh. In reciprocation, a hand swung out and hit him in the face. Scorpius gave her a shove. "Stop hogging the bed, Rose."

"It's _my_ bed…so shut up…you ingrate," the body next to him muttered, heavy with sleep. "It's way…too early…for this…shit."

"Why am I in your bed?"

Rose groaned, sat up, and whacked him with the pillow she had been sleeping on. He snatched the pillow and threw it on the floor. "Because _someone_ fell asleep and furniture transfigurations only last oh-so long. So, I levitated you in here. You're lucky we're mates. If you were anyone else, I would've left your arse in there."

She wasn't lying.

"You sleep like the dead and your glasses are on the bedside table," she informed, looking at the clock on her bedside. "And we have exactly one hour before we have to be at my aunt and uncle's for New Year's brunch."

Squinting, he found his glasses and put them on. "What time is it?"

"Just past eleven."

"I should—"

The doorbell sounded.

"Who in the hell…" Rose, who was missing a sock and looked extremely dishevelled, clumsily forced herself out of the bed. "I swear, if the person on the other side of the door has the last name of Weasley or Potter, I'll hex them good," she muttered viciously as she went to answer the door.

Scorpius yawned and scanned the room for his socks and shoes. He found them against the wall. He was in the middle of putting his second sock on when he heard a very familiar voice say, "Nice look, Rosie. You look like you got struck by lightning."

And then he heard her punch him somewhere.

"Call me Rosie one more time, Al, and I'll kick your arse."

"Empty threats, Rosie—_OW!_ That actually stung a bit."

Scorpius snorted a little too loudly as he walked to the doorway of her bedroom.

"What was that?"

He made his presence known. "That would be me laughing at your dumb arse."

Albus made a face. "At least I know why you never came home last night." He then looked at them both, smirked, and wiggled his eyebrow suggestively. "What were you two up—?"

Rose smacked him in the back of the head. "You perv!" He winced and cut his eyes at Scorpius who was snickering. "We just watched movies…or rather, _I_ watched a movie and Scorpius did a very good impression of a coma patient." She huffed. "I reopened the Floo, so scram. I have to get dressed."

And with that, Rose walked past them and into her room, closing the door behind her.

Scorpius walked past his best friend and into the sitting room where he picked up his tie and jacket. He had a feeling that Albus wanted to say something that he couldn't say around Rose, and didn't have to wait long.

"What _really_ happened? Rose closed her Floo."

He turned to his best friend. "Exactly what she said. I came here from the party, we started to watch a movie, and I fell asleep. Nothing more." Scorpius explained coolly. "Oh, and Rose _always_ closes her Floo at night. It's to stop people from barging in before she wakes up."

With a shake of his head, his best friend ran a hand through his messy hair. "So you're going to do this for another year?"

Scorpius was starting to get a bit testy. "Do what?" He knew exactly what Albus was talking about, but preferred to play stupid.

"_Lie_." Before he could snappishly retort, Albus gave him a shove towards the Floo. "Just so you know, I told Lily and everyone that you got sick and went home. So don't worry about getting a high-heeled shoe to the face today."

"Don't worry, I wasn't."


	3. Pink Robes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm still yawning_   
_Scuffing down the city street_   
_Heading for the clock on_   
_Bought a 'Daily Record' like a real man_   
_Well I made it to the real world_   
_But I'm not living in the real world_   
**I'm Not Living In The Real World - Belle and Sebastian**

**Chapter Three – Pink Robes**

The first warning started as a steady chirp, like a hungry baby bird. Not bad, but loud enough to draw Rose from her already fleeting dreams. She scowled, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Ihateyoupleasedie." To which the alarm replied by getting louder.

It was that time again. Time to go to war with yet another inanimate object.

Despite its innocuous exterior and fifteen various nature sounds, her clock was pure evil and it was Rose's duty as a person who valued her sleep to silence it by beating it into submission. After a half-hearted fist pump of victory, Rose finally cracked an eye open to squint at the green numbers.

Five o'clock on a disgusting Tuesday morning, and here she was being forced out of bed to go to St. Mungo's and work for a witch with a too-common floral name that she still couldn't remember.

She couldn't help but groan at the unfairness of it all.

This is precisely when her clock decided to deliver a second, more insistent, wake-up call that sounded like an old 'air raid' siren. So much for the nature sounds.

Rose swore viciously. "I didn't even set you, demon!" She found the cord on sheer luck and ripped it from the wall before burying her head under the covers for a few minutes of extra sleep.

The silence lasted a moment before the alarm revved back to life, sounding less like an air raid and more like someone was attacking her flat. With cannons. And the Overture of 1812. It startled Rose so badly she fell out of bed. "_Son_ of a-" Using the bed as leverage, she got back to her feet and went on the attack. That time, nothing would silence it. It shrilled through her beatings and blared over her cursing. Not even a few well-aimed hexes would shut the abomination up.

"Fine!" she screamed in frustration. "I'm awake!"

And the clock fell silent.

"You are _so _being replaced. I know I've been threatening for years, but I've had enough of your—" Rose froze mid-rant and inhaled.

_Coffee._

It was coming from her flat and she hadn't even programmed the coffee-maker. Curiously, she grabbed her wand, and started creeping down the hall. She peered into sitting room. Everything was dark and silent, except the kitchen light was on and someone was humming merrily.

Oh.

Threat terminated, Rose used her wand to create a hideous bun for her hair and walked through the sofa-less sitting room. There was only one _person_ intelligent enough to get into her flat – through the blocked Floo – without setting off her wards; one _family member_ insane enough to be awake and humming _happily_ at this time of morning; one _parent_ wicked enough to give her a possessed alarm clock for Christmas when the Headmistress wrote about Rose's tardiness to her morning classes.

"Morning, mum."

Her mother sat at her small kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading over what looked like her daily itinerary while humming a now familiar tune. The Overture of 1812. She greeted her unkempt daughter with a raised eyebrow and a smile that she tried to hide behind her mug. "I do love a little Tchaikovsky in the morning."

"You are the worst." She flopped in the other chair, but straightened automatically when she received a look over the papers. "And I'm not even going to ask how you got in."

"Smart."

Rose sulked. "I'll have you know that not even dad can't even get through my wards."

"Your dad isn't me." Rose had an unsettling moment of disorientation, startled suddenly by how much her mother's quick, wicked smiled reminded her of her own. For years, she would baulk at anyone who mentioned how much she favoured her mum, never seeing their similarities until right then. It was disturbing. "Besides," Mum continued, blissfully unaware of Rose's thought process. "You seem to forget that I taught you everything you know about wards." With an effortless flick of her hand, she levitated the coffee pot and spelled it to pour Rose a fresh cup. She'd been trying to figure out how to do that for _years_, but mum wouldn't show her how because it would only _'promote further laziness on her part.'_

Unfortunately, she had a point.

Once the pot was back on its base, her mother asked, "Too much sugar and milk, right?"

"I take it black."

"Since when?"

_Since now,_ Rose silently answered, frowning at her own petulance. Mum had a way of making her feel twelve again…and completely inadequate. It wasn't on purpose; at least that was what dad had said. Her mother didn't think on the same plane as as normal people, and she had ridiculously high expectations for them.

So far, Hugo was living up to the expectations set for him with his art school and his study habits.

Rose? Not so much. Six N.E.W.T.s and no career plans wasn't exactly what her mother had planned for her eldest.

Frustration propelled Rose from her chair. "Forget it." She shuffled to her refrigerator, opening it with a resigned huff…and then she saw it. Surely, Rose was seeing things. No. Not in her refrigerator. Not in her flat. She slammed it shut and opened again, but it was still there. She shot her mother an accusing look. "Did you do this?"

Of course, she didn't even bat an eye, accustomed to Rose's dramatic outbursts. In a tone as dry as hot sand, her mother asked, "What, Rose?"

"There are healthy things in my refrigerator."

Which earned her an eyeroll. "And I'm reading a newspaper." At Rose's affronted glare, her mum's eyes widened innocently. "I thought we were playing that game where everyone states the obvious."

"No," Rose folded her arms, looking like she'd eaten a sour pickle. "I hate that game. I always lose." She then put her hands on her hips in an attempt to look more intimidating. Judging from the look on her mother's face, it wasn't working. "There are still green things in here."

"It's celery, Rose. You eat vegetables."

"Because you refused to give us sugar until we were old enough to buy it and now that I've had my taste of the good life, I refuse to go back to..." she paused to examine each item carefully. "Carrots, asparagus, and a bag of kale. Is that—" Rose blinked, then directed her pained expression at her mother. "There's a _squash_ in my refrigerator-"

"You're being serious. Right-?"

"I thought you _loved _me."

Mum refolded the paper, her tone as matter-of-fact as ever. "You're being dramatic and your refrigerator had no food."

She ignored that last part. "There was food."

"Old Treacle Tarts, chocolate pudding, and a tofu stir-fry Scorpius left yesterday to stop Albus from inhaling it during his post-work hunger rampage do not count as food."

"Dad would beg to differ. Wait. How did you-"

"There was a dated note that said _'Warning: Contains vegetables and tofu.'_" Her mother didn't miss a beat. "I'm reiterating common knowledge, but vegetables are good for you. They have vitamins and minerals."

Rose was too busy frowning at the baby carrots to hear her mother. "I can't believe you put kale in this refrigerator. They could have broken the poor machine."

"Well." She calmly sipped her coffee. "I'll have you know that this has been the most ridiculous conversation I've had since your dad tried to convince me that pushing Hugo into a _lake_ was an effective method to teach him how to swim and to cure his fear of water. Two birds, one stone."

Rose cringed. "I'm still trying to figure out how he's going to survive art school in Venice, of all places."

"He'll be fine," her mother waved her hand haphazardly. "Now back to you. Carrots-"

She quickly jumped back on the defence. "Turn your skin orange. How can anything that turns you its colour be healthy?" Rose shut the door to the refrigerator and opened the freezer. She pulled out a pint of ice cream, showcased it, and said, "Ice cream doesn't cause those sorts of problems."

"Because it causes others." Her mother shook her head. "It's amazing to me that you're not on a _'Parvati Patil: Weight Guru'_ special."

"Don't hate the metabolism, embrace it…and if all else fails, blame dad."

"Well, I'm just making sure that you're eating healthy now that you're not living at home. Lily was saying some interesting things about people who don't eat enough fruits and vegetables—"

Rose snorted as she put the ice-cream back into the freezer. "Lily looks like a praying mantis with her pointy elbows and...aren't they the ones who eat the males after mating?" She pondered for a moment. "Sounds about right."

She shuddered at the mental image of Lily eating Scorpius. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

Not if she could help it.

"Rose!"

"What?" At the tight look on her mother's face, she sighed. Rose knew very well that Mum fretted over the lack of love between her and Lily. It wouldn't bode well for her to throw that in her face. "Okay. I'll take back the praying mantis bit, but the rest is true. She needs to add carbs to her diet because I'm tired of her salivating over all the sweet treats at family functions. It's sad. Besides, I can't take nutrition tips from anyone who doesn't eat carbs. It's like taking duelling tips from a person who has never been in a fight." She went in the refrigerator, ignoring all the vegetables, and pulled out the milk. "I know you agree with me. You _love _pasta."

Her mother summoned the sugar out the cabinet. "I do agree, somewhat. Life is about balance, not the extremes. However, that doesn't mean that she's not right some respect. I'm just looking out for you; Lily is too, in a way."

Rose inwardly snorted. _Hardly. _"I know you have my best interests at heart, but honestly, there are better ways. What's next? Tofu noodles that you try to pass off as linguine? I will not be fooled by food trickery." Mum made a disgusted face. "Finally, something we can agree on."

The bit of tension in the room dissolved when mother and daughter started laughing together. Rose lived for little moments like this. When being in the same room as her mum didn't involve word games and trying to outmanoeuvre the smartest witch she'd ever known; when being around her was tolerable instead of excruciating. Her mother didn't say anything when Rose poured milk into her coffee until it was nearly white and added a few heaping teaspoons of sugar before stirring. She sipped and read the comics, giggling over her favourites, while Mum went back to reading the paper.

A few moment later, she mumbled, "Oh no."

"What mum?"

"William Savage died yesterday morning at St. Mungo's."

"Who?"

"William Savage. After the war, he trained new recruits for the Auror Department. He trained me when I first joined after graduating from Hogwarts. He tried to challenge me and didn't treat me like everyone else did, assuming that I knew everything from the start. I admired him for it. He taught me a lot."

"How did he die?"

"It says here that the cause of his death is undetermined."

Rose was confused. "But why was he in the hospital in the first place?"

"He came into contact with a powerful dark artefact during a raid." It was a vague response, which meant the case was still under investigation. "He should have died within hours, but they got him to St. Mungo's fast enough for Healers to slow down his deterioration. A few extra months was all he had, but he said he wanted to spend them with his family." Her mother shook her head, sadness clouding her eyes. "I guess he didn't make it."

Rose shifted in her seat, unsure of how to respond. There were two things that made her physically uncomfortable: anything involving Scorpius' family and displays of raw emotions. Both were messy and troublesome. She guzzled down her coffee with gusto, an escape plan already in the works. "I'm going to take a shower and get ready. My first shift is—"

Mum folded the paper abruptly, all traces of sadness eradicated by a burst of excitement. "In a few hours, I know. That's why I'm here."

"Erm." That was creepy. "I just figured you were here to wake me up and infect my refrigerator."

"That, too, but I wanted to make you a hearty breakfast and drive you to work. Doesn't that sound like a great idea?"

"Will saying no change anything?"

"Not in the least."

"Thought so."

Her mother's idea of a hearty breakfast was a fibre-filled oat bran cereal concoction she'd invented when Rose was a child. It tasted like dried leaves and cardboard, and the piece of avocado on the side didn't make the meal any better. Rose hated avocados. They were tasteless and oily, which completely defied the law of fruit.

So naturally, she waited until her mother wasn't looking before she tossed the avocado out and dumped as much sugar into the bowl as possible, but it did very little to improve the taste of the cereal. The first crunching bites took her back over ten years when she used to force-feed it to the cat, and then Hugo when the cat started having diarrhoea.

"It will keep you full until lunch."

"I fo dat," Rose mumbled with a full mouth as she crunched on a particularly hard mouthful. Her jaw was hurting. Finally, she swallowed. "Too bad it tastes like wood."

"It's not that bad. It should be really sweet for you. After all, you've dumped half the sugar canister into it." Her mouth fell open in shock. How had she seen? As if answering her question, her mum tapped her temple as if to remind her that she knew everything. Bugger. "So the flavour—"

"Even with the mountain of sugar, if you lick a dirty table, you'll get an approximation of the flavour."

"Well, your brother loves it. And Scorpius, too."

Rose snorted. "They wouldn't know good food if it slapped them. Hugo is...Hugo. And Scorpius is all about anything that will, and I quote, _'keep my body as sharp as my mind.'_ I weep for his children."

"Har, har. Finish up and go get dressed. What time does your shift start?"

She glanced at the clock. "Two hours from now."

"Doesn't hurt to be early."

* * *

Actually, it did.

Rose's frown had deepened to a scowl by the time her mum pulled up outside St. Mungo's visitor's entrance an hour later. It was still dark enough for lamp posts and headlights, but dawn was coming and the city was showing signs of life. A few Muggles bustled by in a rush to get out of the cold, a few cyclist zipped past, and the restaurant across the street flipped on their open sign. Rose's stomach growled at the mere thought of a delicious fry-up with hash browns. _Real food._

But first, there was the matter of her still-chattering mother.

Rose had a sneaking suspicion that Mum only used one of her endless number of holidays to make sure she was out of her flat on time. Not that she had anything to worry about. The sodding alarm made sure she was out of bed and positively _violent_.

Still, her mother spent half the short trip going on about how it was nice to do normal things together and Rose had to bite her tongue to stop from saying, _'driving your twenty-one year old to work is not normal in any country.'_ She zoned out after her mum mentioned how _'exciting'_ this was for the sixth time. It was like she was trapped in a bad after-school specials. At nearly seven in the morning.

"Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Thanks, but no."

"I thought about us going to dinner tonight. Hugo leaves this weekend and we can celebrate your new job—"

"That you got me."

"Semantics," she hand waved Rose's argument away. "Oh! We could go to that new restaurant in Diagon Alley. The Cove, I think? It's gotten great reviews."

"You're forgetting that I'm no food snob. Only you and Hugo care about that sort of thing. Dad will eat anything so long as it's edible and I just hope it's not one of those restaurants where they try to pass off a sliver of salmon and tiny red potato as an entire meal. I always end up attacking the first food vendor I see. Once day that tactic is going to get me arrested, or worse, _banned_."

Her mother snorted out a laugh. "Nice to see that you have your priorities in order."

"Isn't it?" Rose flashed a grin and fixed the top button of her brown coat. "Besides, we should probably postpone that dinner until tomorrow. I'm going furniture shopping with Scorpius after his shift is over. He's threatening to Vanish my telly if I don't at least buy a sofa. Something about bring tired of the vanishing furniture." She shrugged.

"It's about time."

She rolled her eyes and opened the car door, shivering a little in the crisp London morning. Still, it had nothing on Scotland. "Funny, funny. We probably will be done around...seven?"

"Well, just bring Scorpius along. Your dad and I don't mind."

After a half-heared "I'll ask," Rose closed the door and walked slowly toward the building. Her mum beeped twice before she drove off. She waited until the car was out of sight before walking to the little restaurant and indulging in a second breakfast. It was much better than the first.

Full and happy, Rose made her way back.

Her frown returned when she realised that her day was only beginning.

Scorpius once told a roomful of people that the act of Rose walking into St. Mungo's on her own volition would be a sure sign of the impending apocalypse. She allowed that nugget of hope to linger as she stood in front of Purge and Dowse, the location of her new prison—oh wait, her new _job_.

Bet or no bet, if she'd remembered just how much she loathed this place, Rose would have never agreed to mum's terms. Her hatred of St. Mungo's started when she thirteen when James had mixed over a hundred Puking Pastilles into her jar of jelly beans as a prank. He wanted to convince her that she was allergic to candy so she would give him the extensive collection that she kept hidden from mum.

What he hadn't expected was for her to go on a jelly bean binge following a particularly nasty argument with Scorpius and Al. He also hadn't expected for the antidotes to not work, which caused her to vomit almost non-stop for just under two of the worst weeks of her life while a cure was brewed. She didn't know which was worse: the Medi-witch from the Muggle Ailments department who kept getting sick when she came in to change her fluid bag, or the emergence of James' guilty conscience which caused him to stand against the wall across the room and stare at her with _'forgive me'_ eyes.

It was all extremely disturbing.

But then Rose remembered that neither were as bad as Uncle Harry, who had sat at her bedside while she was vomiting into a bucket and said, _"History repeats itself in the strangest of ways,"_ with an amused chuckle.

Rose made sure to puke on him before he left.

"You're supposed to talk to it, not stand there and stare," came an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice from behind her. She detected a bit of humour in the stranger's voice, and annoyance crept up her spine.

Pivoting, she rested her hand on her hips. "Thanks for the advice, but I really don't need any—" Of course, it all dissipated the moment she saw the speaker. "Help." She had no face, just thick blonde bangs that covered her eyes and bright pink lipstick. Rose briefly wondered if she swept her hair aside long enough to pick out her clothes. No. She probably didn't. Bangs wore a harsh blend of bright colours and Muggle winter wear that threatened to set her corneas on fire.

Yet, all Rose could do was stand, stare, and blink in amazement. There was someone on this planet stranger than Mrs. Luna. They _had_ to be related. Third cousins, or something.

Her hot pink lips spread into a smile, revealing a smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. Rose started to tell her, but Bangs started talking again. And, well, she couldn't interrupt that, now could she? "Sorry, mate. I'm used to lost people. I forget that sometimes people just want to stand and absorb their atmosphere before they enter."

Rose patted her hair nervously. "Absorb isn't exactly the term I'd use…"

"Aww, you must be an ickle Firstie."

Blinking slowly, she tilted her head slightly to the side and asked, "An ick—what?"

"A Firstie. That's what I call people who are coming here for the first time, whether it's as a patient or an employee. Which are you?"

She briefly thought about not answering her question honestly, but decided against it. "An employee. It's also not my first time here."

"Even better." Rose didn't like her ominous statement one bit, but didn't have a chance to say anything else because Bangs swept her hair aside for the first time, allowing Rose to see her eyes. The fact that they were blue was the _third_ thing she noticed. The first two were her bright purple eye-shadow and thick mascara. She reached into her big, rainbow-coloured bag and extracted a flowery clip to keep her bangs out of her face. "My name is Jane."

Which was a remarkably boring name for such a strange person in Rose's opinion so she mentally christened her 'Bangs' for the foreseeable future, or at least until she could think of something better.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and stared for a few uncomfortable moments before she finally asked, "Would your last name be Weasley?"

Rose sighed. "Yes."

"You're _the_ Rose Weasley?"

She blinked. "Um."

"Of the Rose Weasley Ward for Muggle Maladies?"

"Oh, _that_."

Mum had a habit of giving strange birthday gifts. This past birthday, Rose had been given a job. Last year, she'd gotten Rose's lifetime ban from Madam Maulkin's lifted. Not that she cared. When Rose turned eighteen, she'd been gifted a deodorizer block for her refrigerator that would last until the end of time. All those strange gifts had started when she was five. Instead of getting a doll or a toy like years previous, her mother had donated an enormous sum of money to St. Mungo's for a ward to treat Muggle ailments and named it after her.

"_You'll be remembered forever. Who cares about material things when you're helping people?"_

Rose cared, not that it mattered.

Bangs bounced on the balls of her feet with excitement. "Isn't it just cool that I get to meet the person named after the ward I stayed in for two weeks with a bad case of the flu?"

"Such a small world, it is." Rose smiled weakly and looked at the dummy in the window. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Creepy Top Hat?" She gestured for Bangs to walk through the entrance first and followed behind her.

Her mum had told her that St. Mungo's had undergone renovations a few years ago, so she pictured a warm, enveloping environment with a smaller, intimate side room that had a little Zen thrown in for good measure.

Not this.

It felt like the waiting area was decorated by a man who had just gone through a divorce. In the haze of his newfound freedom, he bought some nature prints that his wife would have hexed him over, slapped them on the walls, and spelled them to move. Then, he found some decorative objects for the tables—objects that Rose's little cousins could've designed in their sleep. More than likely, they were expensive as hell and had writing in invisible ink that read, "Mass Produced Crap that Only Dolts Like You Will Buy and Try To Pass Off as Ornamental." The best parts of the room were the bright lights and the music.

However, when Rose heard the voice on the Wireless announce that they were about to play Daisy Bladvak's new song, she immediately changed her mind.

The lights were _definitely_ the highlight.

Rose looked around as she followed chirpy Bangs. There were people occupying every seat, but it was strangely hushed; almost like the Great Hall whenever their Headmistress stood to address them. Everyone was trying to watch her inconspicuously…and failing miserably. She had a feeling that working here wouldn't be any different than working at the twenty other places she'd worked at before. Just a bigger place…with sick people.

However, seeing one of the seven 'Emergency Only' Floos come to life quickly changed her mind. Rose watched as two Transport Medi-wizards emerged from the flames and immediately rushed to the back, the levitating body of a patient between them.

Bangs slowed and interrupted her thoughts with a whispered, "The waiting area is warded so that no one can see any of the emergency patients or the Transport staff. Except for employees…and me, of course. I'm the Welcome Witch, if you didn't know already. I see everyone who comes in and everyone who leaves," she told Rose proudly in softer tones. "I'm the hospital's security. I take patients' wands before they go back and I can see through their bags."

"You can?"

She nodded. "Hospital wards allow me to. It's to make sure that they aren't carrying anything that would do anyone harm. There was an incident several years ago when some dark artefacts were smuggled in and used to kill a patient. No one wants a repeat of that fiasco."

"I suppose not." Rose instinctively held her beaded bag closer to her body. It was—as all of her most treasured belongings were—completely out of style, but she'd inherited it from her mother before she went off to Hogwarts…and there was no telling what sort of illegal items mum had put in there over the years.

"Don't worry, I can't see through your bag."

"Why not?"

"There are perks to being on the staff, and that is one of them."

"What are the others?"

"After today, you'll be able to Floo directly into work. Healers can Apparate unchecked inside the hospital."

"But not their assistants?"

"No. They've been petitioning it for years, but the administrators don't care. Just like they don't care about giving us Welcome Witches paid vacation time. There are four of us, and we're the foundation of this place. Our job is hard. Don't get me wrong, I like it," she'd told Rose as she sat down at her desk. "I like to help in any way that I can, which is why I usually play the popular stations on the Wireless. Makes the time pass faster."

Rose almost snorted, but stopped herself. Just barely.

"Now that I'm all settled," Bangs whipped out her wand. "I have specific instructions to send Healer Brown a Patronus the moment you arrive, and you're early. Which is a good thing, shows you're eager."

Not a word Rose ever associated with herself, but she was a firm believer in letting people believe what they wanted.

With little effort and a flourish of her wand, a silvery bird shot from Bang's wand. It flew around her head before it set off to deliver her message. "I heard that you forced your Patronus to be an otter, like your mum's."

For a long time, Rose truly believed that her parents' status as two-thirds of the celebrated 'Golden Trio' had nothing to do with her. Her parents were the heroes of the Second War, and she was just their daughter. Rose was fifteen when she found out just how wrong she was. She realised that no matter what she did—good or bad—she would never escape their legacy. There would always be assumptions and expectations attached to her actions and decisions.

In the end, Rose had to make a choice. She could either accept her role or rebel against it.

She chose the latter.

"Not only is that not even possible," Rose told her with a slight hint of irritation in her voice. "But if it were, an otter would be the very _last_ animal I would choose. I don't even like otters. They're the second most overrated species in the animal kingdom and I hope they all get eaten by snow leopards."

Bangs looked confused. "But your mum's-"

"Let me ask you a question. Are you obsessed with your mum? Do you try to model your life after hers?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you shouldn't assume that I do."

Bangs, in that moment, looked incredibly embarrassed. "I, oh, I didn't think about it like that. I'm sorry."

Rose smiled weakly. "Don't worry about it."

After a stretch of silence that only could be defined as extremely uneasy, Bangs asked. "So what's the first?"

"What?"

"Most overrated animal?"

"Oh, dolphins. Definitely."

All awkwardness dissipated when they both laughed. While waiting for Healer Brown to come out, Rose accepted the girl's invitation to sit with her. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, and Bangs was remarkable in a sort of scary, crazy, train wreck way, now that she wasn't treating Rose like some sort of demi-god.

Rose fiddled with her identification badge as Bangs fielded questions from incoming patients with ease and told her life story without hesitation. From the bits that she picked up, Bangs was nineteen, a Muggle-born, and studying journalism at a nearby University. She had a cat named Neptune, went to a wizarding school in America, wanted to eventually work for Witch Weekly, and was a Gemini. Needless to say, by the time a blonde witch who had to be the Healer she would be working for emerged from the double doors, Rose nearly leapt from her chair in relief. Bangs made for a great distraction, but she talked more than Scorpius' aunt after a bottle of Elf Wine…and she wasn't nearly as hilarious.

"You must be Rose. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Healer Brown offered her hand.

It was tanned and there were jagged scars running up her arm, but Rose accepted it without hesitation. "And you must be Healer Brown. Pleasure-"

"Call me Lavender when we're not around patients. I like to keep things as informal as possible. Makes the day run smoother and it makes assistants like me more." Her twinkling smile was warm and it made Rose take an instinctive liking to her. Perhaps, just maybe her mum was on to something by getting her a job as Healer Brown – err Lavender's – assistant.

"Will do."

"So, whenever you're ready..."

"I'm ready now."

After waving breezily at Bangs, she followed Lavender through the double doors, down the hall, and into the lift, her beaded bag a comforting weight at her side. The ride down was slow and quiet on her end, at least at the beginning, and Rose found herself sneaking glances at her talking boss. She'd been warned by Scorpius not to stare at the scars she wore proudly, but that was increasingly difficult. Uncle Bill's scars looked like scratch marks from a kitten in comparison. She must've been ravaged by that wolf Mum saved her from.

"Sorry, I'm a bit chatty. I haven't had an assistant in a while, mostly because the ones sent to me like to stare. So when Hermione called and asked me to take you on, I'll confess I was desperate. Assistants do make the workload easier."

Rose made a non-committal throaty noise.

Lavender shot her a look. "Do you know what you're going to be doing for me?"

She examined Healer Brown closely. She was feminine in a way Rose had never tried to be, all big blue eyes and long eyelashes, and beautiful in that older woman way that reminded her vaguely of Aunt Ginny. Her wavy blonde hair was tied back, giving her a more serious look…and highlighted her scars. Four trails of claw marks that started from her temple and disappeared into her healer robes. There were other marks, especially around her neck, but those were the most noticeable. She seemed friendly, despite what she'd been through. Mum said her recovery took years and it was largely the reason she'd gone into Healing.

"Well, do you?"

She couldn't even pretend that she was paying attention. "Huh?"

"Do you know what your job is?"

Rose shrugged. "I know the basics from one of Al's ex-girlfriend's whinging. I perform Diagnostic Charms on all your patients in the morning before you go on rounds, I check in on them during my shift when everyone's too busy, and alert you when something is wrong with a patient via Patronus. Oh, and I run menial errands for you. Coffee and food, mainly. Sometimes, you'll loan me out to other Healers: the nice ones if you like me, and the mean ones if I'm especially irritating."

"That's..." Lavender looked faintly amused, "actually accurate. Not the errands, though. Not a perk I indulge in. And I don't share. Some Healers forget that 'subordinate' doesn't actually mean 'slave.'" The lift doors opened and they stepped out. Rose looked around, confused. White walls, a long hallway greeted her, and several people waiting for the lift greeted her.

"Where are we?" She sidestepped a particularly impatient wizard and frowned. The lift closed.

"This is the employees' floor. All the administrative and Head Healer offices are down here, as are lockers and changing areas for everyone else. Oh, and a cafeteria where all the employees eat. Warning: the food is awful."

"I remember Scorpius moaning about it his first week here."

"Healer Malfoy?"

"The very one."

Lavender chuckled as they pass by the semi-empty cafeteria. "I've clearly been out the country too long. Weasleys and Malfoys: friends. If someone would've told me—"

"_We're_ friends. My dad still wants to throw Mr Malfoy from the top of the largest Quidditch pitch whenever they're in the same room and Uncle Harry's eyes threaten to roll out his head when they really get going. Some rivalries die hard."

She cracked a grin. "So it seems." And they stop outside a door. "This is the female locker room. You can pick one of the open ones and ward it however you like. Nothing that'll do permanent damage. Hermione told me that you picked up her knack for wards and charms. Not to mention, hexes."

Rose had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

"No need to look embarrassed. It's why she asked me to take you on."

Made sense. "So...which ward do we work in?"

"I spend a little time helping out in Unliftable Hexes, but only because they're so short-staffed. I work primarily in Incorrectly Applied Charms ward. It's not high-paced like the Intensive Care ward, but it's one of the busiest due to the sharp rise of ridiculous vanity and experimental charms in the wizarding world." Her distasteful tone was a indicator of how she felt about those who found themselves in her care. "We get everything from simple mistakes to cosmetic charms gone very awry. I had a patient last week who tried to charm his nose to look smaller and ended up charming his nose to grow every time he lied. Like Pinocchio, only more painful." At the surprised look on Rose's face, Lavender smirked. "I spent a lot of time around Muggles as a child. My parents were quite liberal, for pure-bloods, at least. Any questions?"

"Hmm..." All in all, it sounded rather entertaining to Rose. "What should I expect?"

"Just don't laugh, obviously. Or do the bug-eyes when you see the sheer ridiculousness that comes into the ward."

That was going to be hard.

"I know, but do at least duck out if you feel a giggle coming on."

Rose winced. "I didn't mean to say that out loud. I seem to have a recurring case of foot-in-mouth syndrome."

"Like your dad, huh?" Lavender smiled.

It was a bit awkward talking about her dad to his ex-girlfriend. Mum hadn't told her very much about Lavender outside her recovery after the war, and dad knew better than to talk about her in front of mum. She only knew that she and her mum were dorm mates at Hogwarts, and her mum spent most of Sixth Year secretly wanting to claw her eyes out with her bare hands because she constantly had her tongue down dad's throat. _"But I won in the end," _she'd told Rose on the ride over. _"Sure, it took a couple of years of listening to your dad burp the alphabet and putting up with his post-Quidditch body odour for me to realise it, but I did win."_

Rose accidentally snorted at her mother's words.

Lavender regarded her with a slightly exasperated look. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Well, you should probably go pick out a locker and get changed."

"There's a uniform?"

Yes. Apparently there was a uniform. And while the robes weren't so bad—at least in theory. She looked down at herself once she warded her locker and finished dressing. They were the perfect length, had bottomless pockets, a wand holster, and not to mention, they were flattering to her figure.

Too bad the colour was murder on her complexion.

Pink. The colour was her Kryptonite. It made her look like she had a fancy blend of dragon pox, leprosy, and consumption. After shoving her clothes into her beaded bag and placing it in her locker, she fastened her wand to the holster and exited the bathroom with a look of overt displeasure on her face.

Healer Brown, who was casually leaning against the opposite wall, failed miserably at suppressing her amusement. "Looks like Hermione got your measurements just right. Now if you could stop looking so stricken, you'll be all set."

Rose's scowl deepened. "I look sick. They're going to mistake me for a patient."

"Not in those robes, they won't. Standard assistant robes. It could be worse."

"I'm not sure how." She grouched, looking as petulant as a sunburnt child. Lavender led the way towards the lift. Rose fell right into step with her, tugging at her robes and feeling more self-conscious than usual.

"Well," the Healer considered with a thoughtful look. "They could have been bright yellow."


	4. Where The Lines Overlap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My eyes go where I say so_   
_But not always, and not when you walk by_   
_And my feet move where I tell them to_   
_But not when they are chasing after you_   
_And now I just don't know what I should do_   
_I'm twisted all around like some cartoon_   
_But I don't mind, no, I don't mind_   
**I Don't Mind – Phantom Planet**

**Chapter Four – Where The Lines Overlap**

When Scorpius' O.W.L. results arrived, his father invited his mother's family, Al, and Rose, to the Manor for one of the most elaborate celebration dinner he had ever seen.

The food had been exquisite; the tension, however, was not.

It was a fact well known to Scorpius that any shred of tolerance the Malfoy and Greengrass families had for each other dissolved right after his parents unofficially separated when he was ten. Each side blamed the other for the failed marriage, but always maintained some sort of civility for his sake. Dinners were always quiet and cordial affairs, if a little cold, but that night everyone drank too much wine and were far too opinionated about his future for anything to remain amiable.

Mother's family insisted that he go into politics, while Father's thought a career as an Unspeakable would be more fulfilling. By the time the final course was finished and the dishes cleared for dessert, the disagreement had grown vicious. Only his father had remained silent, watching them with bored amusement.

It was a look Scorpius had tried to emulate without success.

Their angry voices had risen to a crescendo and snide comments turned into outright verbal attacks. Dessert appeared, but everyone was too invested in their arguments to be interested. Scorpius, who had been certain Father would settle everyone down, was sorely disappointed and coloured with embarrassment when he only blinked at the pointed look from his son. Scorpius had turned to his friends, apologies on the tip of his tongue, but Al had taken to slowly eating his cobbler with a carefully blank face that told Scorpius that his best friend was no longer present. Rose, who would never pass up dessert, had done just that to scoot her chair closer to his in an attempt to avoid being smacked by the wildly waving hand of Aunt Daphne.

Scorpius had muttered his apologies, but Rose only chewed her lip and helped herself to his dessert. He ended up desperately looking to his father again for help. That time, his father sipped his Elf-Wine and said, "Welcome to adulthood."

In the end, Scorpius stood up, managed to get everyone's attention, and announced that he was going to take his six O's and one E and go into Healing.

It only made things worse, if that was at all possible.

Contrary to his family's beliefs, Scorpius didn't go into Healing to rebel against his privileged life, to defy them, or to be the 'black sheep'. It wasn't his 'calling', 'destiny', or any tripe like that. Scorpius didn't do it for the money – or lack thereof – or for the betterment of wizarding kind. Of course, he wanted to help people, but that wasn't all.

The truth was that he chose to be Healer because he wanted to make every moment of his life count. He wanted to work in a field that was dynamic and ever-expanding, with people who shared his passion, and in a job that that mattered in the grand scheme of things – even if only a little bit. Scorpius wanted to bring to his work not only facts from training – scientific and magical – but the human element that made those facts relevant. He believed that people were most human when they weren't at their best, or were even faced with death. In adversity, most developed an appreciation for the fragility of life and stopped over-magnifying the importance of the superficial. And with a family like his, it was nice to see such a display of humanity.

It kept him optimistic.

Father figured he would go into research, his friends thought he would discover a new spell or potion that would help thousands, but Scorpius ended up in the newly developed Intensive Care ward at St. Mungo's. And it was everything he wanted. Demanding, gritty, and intense job that required him to confidently know just enough about every aspect of Healing and human nature. The hours were sensible, the pay as poor as any other Level One Healer, and the things he saw would make anyone's blood run cold. Scorpius saw patients at their very worst and he did everything in his power to keep them alive. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed, but always...always he tried.

Mostly, working in the Intensive Care ward was rewarding, but today had been...difficult at best.

Two deaths in the three weeks.

Not particularly alarming, because each were hanging by a thread, but the undetermined on their death certificates left him a little perplexed. And when the high-profiled William Savage brought their total to three, confusion had turned into suspicion. Inquiries from St. Mungo's administrators and solicitors had taken most of the day and by the end of his shift, everything was still undetermined.

Scorpius hated that word.

His shift ended at five, but paperwork and last minute chats with a patient's family usually kept him there until well past six. So at half-past five, when he announced to his replacement that he was leaving, Scorpius could practically hear the questions forming in Eliot's head and left without explaining. Eliot was far too chatty for his liking and Scorpius worked extremely hard to keep his name out of hospital gossip. He signed off on Mr. Kingston's transfer to the first floor and escaped to the elevator before anyone else caught on.

Henrietta was leaving the Healer's changing room, bag slung over her shoulder, when he arrived. She smiled thinly at him. "Hey, you're off early."

"I think this day called for an early leave."

"Too right."

She looked exhausted – hair in a sloppy bun, crooked glasses, and dressed in Muggle clothes. He had been meaning to check on her after the inquiries. One of the patients – the second – had been hers, and they had been relentless. They combed through her records, questioned every decision she made and potion administered, and she floundered like a fish. It was almost painful to watch her stammer and stumble through her explanations. Luckily, detailed records had cleared Henrietta of any wrongdoing, but the damage was done.

Her confidence was shot and that wasn't good in their profession.

"Any plans tonight?" Scorpius asked to make conversation.

"Dinner and a film at home. You're welcome to join me."

"Sorry, I have plans already."

"Oh?" Henrietta inquired.

"I'm going sofa shopping with Rose." He checked his watch. "She should be waiting in the tearoom for me."

She quirked a brow. "And she can't do that alone or with Al because...?"

Scorpius blanched at the thought. "Rose has barely enough patience for shopping to get through one store and Al has as about as much style as a drop of ink. One of them unironically wears a cape."

Henrietta laughed.

"If I left them to their own devices, Rose would settle on a hideous... thing from a thrift store that wobbled and smelled like a zoo."

"She would not!"

He smirked. "Probably not, but it would be just as tacky and ill-fitting for her flat."

"You sofa snob, you."

Scorpius gave her a wry look. "And this is me, admitting nothing."

Henrietta just smiled. "Well, good luck. Are you on tomorrow?"

"Yes, but not until eleven. I'm off on Friday. My mother will be in town. We're having dinner in London."

Not only did Scorpius dread the dinner itself, which was likely to be an extremely dull affair, he dreaded fending off the barrage of his mother's questions about his love life and her pointed remarks about the lack of it. Father wouldn't be there to serve as a buffer and the voice of reason; his head hurt from the mere thought. And yet, his face told nothing. Henrietta had a talent for reading people. Clothing and jewellery, twitches and frowns, shifting eyes and sighs and shrugs – she noticed it all. Her attention to detail made her an excellent Healer, but he wasn't in the mood to be analysed. Scorpius didn't want to think about what she already knew, what he hadn't been smart enough to hide from her during Hogwarts, but his issues with his mother was something he was determined to keep private.

"That sounds really nice," she smiled. "I'd love to meet your mother someday. She seems lovely."

"Oh, she is." Scorpius forged a warm look out of thin air. "I'm sure she'd like you."

It was a blatant lie.

Mother wouldn't say anything to her face, she would be polite and nice, but the moment Henrietta left, the suppressed disdain would rear its ugly head. She would deem her unfit to associate with Scorpius. Muggle-born. Middle class. Boring. Pretty in a common way. Crooked bottom tooth. _Don't you dare consider dating her,_ she would say because of every witch he introduced to her was a potential match in her eyes. He knew that from experience. His mother hated Rose with such a passion she didn't bother hiding it. Half-blood. Too curvy. Pretty, but tragically uncouth. Too opinionated and vocal. Free-spirited. Weasley. Indecisive. Unfit.

His fingers clenched.

"I should get changed," he said suddenly. "Rose is probably overdosing on tea."

Henrietta snorted. "Can't have that, now can we? I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have fun." She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and left the way he came.

Scorpius changed quickly into Muggle clothes, dashed up to the tearoom, and found Rose asleep at the table, nose dangerously close to dipping into her tea. Pastry untouched. He rolled his eyes, biting back a smile when he noticed they weren't alone.

He could only blink at the witch with dramatic bangs sitting across from Rose. She grinned back. "You must be Scorpius. Rose's friend. I'm Jane. One of the Welcome Witches."

"Oh, hello." He gestured to his sleeping friend. "How long has she been comatose?"

"Twenty minutes. I was explaining some of the new security measures they're implementing and – is it normal for her to just drop off like that?"

"Only when she's dead tired." Or extremely bored.

"I've been trying to wake her, but you can see how successful I've been."

Rose let out a snore.

Jane snickered. "I doubt you'll be any more successful than me."

Scorpius made a non-committal noise and moved the teacup and plate. He had perfected his own art of waking Rose up. Okay, Albus had, but his way involved Wet Willies and Scorpius could do without the screaming. Or the violence. Scorpius' approach was finer. Under the curious gaze of Jane, he leaned close to her ear and said two words: "Lily's coming."

Rose was awake in no time, panicked one second and completely unamused the next. "_You_ are a lying liar that _lies_."

He remained unapologetic. "It had the desired effect. My conscience is clear."

She pouted. "I could've done without the adrenaline rush, thanks."

"A little fight-or-flight never hurt anyone. If anything, it gave your brain some much-needed additional blood flow."

Rose glared hotly. "You do realise you're the boy who cried wolf. Literally. One day, I'm not going to believe you."

"Which will be your downfall. You're the one terrified of your own cousin."

"I am not."

"You run from her. Literally. I saw you vault over chairs and that short table at the Burrow. There was dust and everything."

"We were outside! And that was one time. I was younger then."

"It was three days ago," he deadpanned.

"Semantics," she hand-waved. "The fact remains the same, I—"

"You were running, Rose. _Running_."

"It's called a tactical retreat. With speed. I was trying to avoid her ode to Celestine Warbeck. And I failed. Words cannot express the _horrors_ I endured."

"You used to love Celestine."

"I also used to read the Faerie Academy series. Does that _sound_ like I was making good life choices?" she countered.

"Like you're doing so much better now. Do you want me to remind you about the novel I caught you reading last month. I believe it was—"

She threw a hand over his mouth. "I'm ending this conversation because you're acting surprisingly Slytherin right now. You might be a Malfoy and that should be expected, but my brain can't cope with you beating me at my own game." Scorpius licked her palm and she wrenched her hand back. "Urgh! Germs!"

He smirked.

"Aww," Jane piped in. She'd eaten half of Rose's pastry and had a bit of chocolate on her mouth. "Just when it was getting good."

Rose's eyes went from her to him. "Has she really been there the entire time?"

Scorpius only rolled his eyes.

"You two are just too adorable for words." She rested her chin on her hands, eyes sweeping between them with an adoring grin. It was frankly disturbing. It didn't help that half her face was shielded by bright blonde hair. "Rose, you didn't tell me Scorpius is your boyfriend." Jane gave him an appraising once over that made him feel naked. "And that he's incredibly fit."

The hungry looks he'd been receiving from Lily lately was enough preparation for Jane's appreciation, but he still squirmed under her gaze. Scorpius wasn't shy – far from it when it really mattered – just reserved and modest to a degree that bordered on bashfulness. He knew he was attractive and dismissed it as irrelevant. Years of being pursued by pure-blooded families for his looks and inheritance made him bored with society's superficiality.

He had learned at an early age that none of it mattered in the end. So he kept his head in his books to ignore the legions of girls at school who squabbled to get close to him. And after Hogwarts, he remained politely distant during introduction to single daughters and nieces and granddaughters at galas and events. He frowned when people called him an 'eligible bachelor', awkwardly blinked when witches turned their batting lashes and demure giggles his way, and tuned out the compliments he didn't know how to take...

Scorpius' mouth opened and shut twice without making any sound, but Rose saved him from having to force a reply that would have either been awkward or rude or both.

"Scorpius and I are best mates." She draped her beaded bag over her shoulder and pushed in the chair she'd so ungracefully flown out of at the mere mention of her cousin. When Jane's smile widened to display her very white teeth, Rose gave Scorpius a push toward the door and followed. "We really should get going, sofas to buy and all that jazz."

"Oh," Jane looked disappointed. "Well, see you then. Scorpius, it was nice to meet you."

Scorpius just nodded and left. He was several steps away when he heard, "He's _yummy_."

Rose snorted. "Sadly I cannot endorse any form of cannibalism, so stop with the hungry eyes and the salivating in his presence. Makes him twitchy."

* * *

Contrary to popular beliefs, Rose Weasley wasn't lazy.

She wasn't a slacker, a brat, or unmotivated.

Well, perhaps the latter.

The most important thing Scorpius had learned during their friendship was that Rose was completely brilliant – at being average. She did enough to get by, to get what she wanted, the bare minimum, but never anything extra. She rarely studied, got through Hogwarts on sheer intelligence, and would likely get through life in the same way. Rose didn't try, and that was something that irritated Scorpius.

He could see her potential, had seen it on one occasion in Sixth Year when she ferociously fought to clear Hugo's name when he faced expulsion for cheating on a Potions exam. He watched her hunt down, corner, and question everyone in Hugo's class when the initial accusations rolled in. And a week later, because she refused to allow his trial to be drawn out and gossiped about, Scorpius watched her use every bit of the 'evidence' against Hugo to clear his name with the Disciplinary Panel. She earned a nod of approval from the Headmistress and, after a post-trial snack and nap, went right back to getting by.

Scorpius told the story once to his father, and then he forgot about the two weeks he spent with a Driven Rose. So when he saw her again, he didn't recognise her. It wasn't until she tossed her coat in his general direction and scanned the furniture store with crazy eyes, that Scorpius realised he was no longer in the presence of Unmotivated Rose.

But it was far too late to do anything about it.

She quickly spotted her target, a manager pretending to look busy, and with a muttered, "You'll do just nicely," she started his way.

The poor bloke never had a chance.

Rose cornered him, all polite smiles and curiosity, and once he directed her to the sofas within her budget, she waved Scorpius over. The manager took his appearance as the end of his job, and was completely blindsided when Rose launched an inquisition about the durability of frames in the first sofa, hand tied coils in the second, and cushion fillings on the third.

Apparently, she'd done research since yesterday.

She knew to stay away from the plywood frames he praised and seemed to take pleasure in testing each sofa out, pulling cushions and pushing on the deck. Once the manager realised that Rose wasn't just going to buy any piece of furniture, he tried a different tactic: he took her seriously.

All Scorpius could do was sit on a nearby recliner and watch her check the welting on a blue sofa the manager just swore was everything she wanted. If Scorpius had realised what he was getting into, he would have planned better and dragged someone else along to share his pain and wonderment. Probably not Hugo, who would have known better. Scorpius also would have scheduled the trip for the busiest part of the week, eaten ahead of time, and brought along some sort of entertainment – a book, perhaps.

A really long one.

"What do you think?" Rose stood back, casting a critical look over the sofa. Still the blue one.

He stood up and joined her, ignoring the hopeful looks from the manager. "It's...very blue."

"It comes in red and green." The manager announced.

"No and no." Rose shot down quickly. "Had enough of those colours at school. And I don't like the fabric."

"Perhaps velvet is more of your style."

"Creepy."

"Linen?"

"Boring."

"Bi-cast leather?"

"No leather. Ever."

Scorpius cocked a brow at her. "But you hate cows. I'm sure I remember you going on a tirade about how pretentious they were...or was that dolphins? It's hard to keep up with all your proclaimed failures of the animal kingdom."

"There aren't that many, just those two and anything that forgets that I run the food chain." Rose looked at him. "You don't eat anything with a face, I'm not going to make you sit on a dead cow whenever you come over. That's just rude."

He grinned. "Aw, looks like the Tin Man has a heart."

"I regret everyday that I forced you to watch The Wizard of Oz."

Scorpius laughed.

She elbowed him gently and focused back at the task on hand. She gave the sofa another look. "Hmm. I think the issue is that all the furniture suggestions are a little too clean cut for me. I'd like something a little edgier and creative."

"I think..." The manager went on, leading the way to another sofa with Rose following. When she saw Scorpius wasn't behind her, she doubled back, looped her arm through his, and pulled him along to the grey sofa that the manager – Craig, he finally read – was standing behind.

Rose didn't go through the rigorous examination that time. She looked at it, frowned, and said, "It looks like a rain cloud."

"A very chic rain cloud, right?" Craig countered.

"If chic means dirty, then sure."

Scorpius liked to think that the back and forth between Rose and the manager would have gone on forever – or at least until closing – if he hadn't turned his head to cough out a laugh. Because that was when he saw it: a black, quirky sofa with a wavy back that was so perfect he wondered how they had passed it. The fact that it was on clearance made it just that much better. Just before Craig started down to the next sofa he had in mind, Scorpius pointed it out. "What about that one?"

Rose un-linked their arms, headed straight for it, and was attempting to lift it by the time he and Craig caught up.

"What do you think?" he asked.

She walked around it several times, her face unreadable.

"It's not exactly made with the best material, and—"

"I actually like it." Rose interjected. "It's different." Craig practically sagged with relief, but Rose didn't notice. She was too busy plopping down on the sofa like an over-exuberant child. "Oh, it's comfortable too. I think this is the one." The manager didn't waste a moment before excusing himself to retrieve the paperwork and another employee to discuss delivery and payment. It would probably be a bit, the store was busier than it had been when they arrived. "Come on. Sit on your new bed."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I don't spend that many nights on your sofa. Two a month, at most."

"A month?" She guffawed. "You poor, deluded sod. You fall asleep every single film night—"

"Because your taste in films is questionable at best."

"And let's not forget the occasions that Al brings a girl home."

"How do you expect me to sleep through that?"

"Two words: Silencing Charm."

"Just because I can't hear it, doesn't mean it's not happening. And let me just add that Al's 'I just got laid' face is not something I want to see over my morning tea and toast."

Rose looked like she'd eaten a sour grape. "_Gross_. I didn't need the mental picture."

"And I don't need the actual one, trust me."

"Fair enough, now sit down." She tugged on his arm until he gave in and sat next to her. The sofa was comfortable and firm enough to sleep on.

He was tired, and the mere thought of sleep made his eyes grow heavy. Rose shifted next to him, leaning against his arm like she'd done countless times before. And Scorpius only did what was natural: he moved his arm. It was a silent invitation for her to scoot closer; one that she always took. Then he curled his arm around her shoulder and took a practised breath when she hugged an arm around his middle. Rose had always been tactile. She initiated hugs, little touches, a hand on his shoulder, a ruffle of his hair. He figured it was part of being a Weasley; none of them were familiar with the concept of personal space. It was something he'd gotten used to over the years; a real test of his self-control.

Because it was easy to forget that none of her touches meant anything.

"You know," he started after forcing the thought from his head. "I forgot to ask you how your first day went."

"It was better than I expected. Tiring, but I got to see a lady who tried to alter her chin and ended up with an elephant trunk. It was _glorious_."

He chuckled fondly, allowing himself to twist a lock of her hair around his finger. Only for a moment. "The things that entertain you."

"My mind is a scary place. You know this." A moment of companionable silence passed and she sat up, still close, still leaning on him, but she took her arm back. Scorpius exhaled just as Rose said, "So, _you_ had a rotten day. I heard about the inquiries. My mum knew the last one. William Savage, right?"

"Yes, that's him." Scorpius frowned. "It's all a right mess, if you ask me, but I'm glad today is over."

"What do you think it is? You should hear some of the conspiracy theories Ba—erm _Jane_ came up with."

"It's all a coincidence, a tragic one, but a statistical anomaly." He paused for just a beat. "Also, please don't tell me you gave her a nickname."

There was silence, followed by an unconvincing, "I would _never_."

He just blinked at her. "Rose, you called me Blondie for a solid year."

"Internally!" she argued. "I should have never told you. And okay, it's Bangs. Because she has…ridiculous bangs."

"Creative," Scorpius drawled.

She shoved his knee so hard it knocked against the other one. "It's all I could think of on a pinch, but that isn't the point here."

"Ah, so there was a point in there?"

That time she pinched his side, causing him to jump and make an unmanly noise that brought a mischievous smile to her face. "I'm filing that sound away for your future humiliation, just so you know."

He made a face. "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because I'm the best and you have the highest chance of surviving the apocalypse. We've been through this already." Rose said with a magnanimous gesture and grin. "Anyway, Bangs has all sorts of theories about what's going on. My personal favourite is Killer Aliens. Quite interesting once you hear the entire idea, completely mental, but fascinating nonetheless."

He poked her in the leg. "Sounds like you've made a friend."

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm perfectly capable of making friends and you better agree or I'll threaten you with bodily harm."

"Your threats are meaningless. Even less so now that we're practically cuddling in a furniture store."

"I don't cuddle."

"So if I stand up right now?"

"Extreme bodily harm."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Dinner with Rose's family was nothing like any sort of meal he'd ever had with his family, save his own Father.

It started with full-bodied hugs in front of the restaurant and Rose's mum fussing over his lean frame, continued inside with great food and easy conversation, dissolved into fits of laughter at Rose and her dad's antics, and ended back at her parent's home with home-made dessert. Hugo showed him a few of his completed drawings and they listened to a few vinyl records with Rose. It was well past ten o'clock when Scorpius Floo'd home sated, exhausted, and armed with several plates of vegetarian meals Rose's mum had prepared earlier with him in mind.

Scorpius had all but collapsed on his sofa after putting the food away, too tired to make it to his bedroom. He closed his eyes, started to dose, but forced himself to wake up because he refused to sleep on the sofa.

Of course, the moment he dragged himself to his feet, the Floo flared to life and Albus emerged.

Scorpius cocked a brow. Al had been out on a double date with James and his girlfriend-of-the-moment. He never bothered with names. "Back so soon?"

"I would've been back ages ago had it been possible."

"That bad?"

"I'm not actually certain whether to start at the part where James and Matilda were attached at the lips or if I should begin when Emily ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and asked what happened to my glasses and scar."

"Ouch."

Albus shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I was late and she was already pissed off one glass of wine by the time I sat down. I'm actually surprised it wasn't worse." Albus hung up his jacket on the coat rack next to the fireplace. "Are you just getting in?"

Scorpius nodded. "About ten minutes ago."

"How was sofa shopping?"

"Terrifying."

Al laughed. "It wasn't that—"

"She cornered the manager like a tiger and intensely examined every sofa he showed her. I'm certain we would still be there had it not been for me."

"Sounds like Rose. She was banned from Madam Maulkin's for a reason, you know."

He hadn't thought about that. "True."

"Did you eat already? I'm starving."

"I had dinner with Rose's parents and Hugo, but if you want something quick, you can eat one of the plates her mum—" Al's face lit up and he vanished into the kitchen. Scorpius followed him to make sure he'd have food for lunch tomorrow. Al was already sitting at the table in front of a plate of stir-fry, fork in hand. "That was fast."

"I love Aunt Hermione's cooking...except that cereal she makes. Tastes like rocks." He made a face and started eating.

"I happen to like that cereal."

Al snorted, but waited until he finished chewing to reply. "You would."

"Wanker." His best friend only grinned widely. Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'm off to bed."

His smile faded quickly. "Hey, hold up for a second. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Okay, what?"

Albus hesitated, looking uncharacteristically hesitant for a moment, then sighed. "Lily fancies you."

Given her behaviour as of late, it didn't surprise Scorpius much. Still, he didn't quite know how to respond. "Erm. Okay?"

"Look, I don't want to have this conversation because it's awkward, but just don't lead her on." Albus quickly hurried and added. "I know you wouldn't. Not intentionally. I just—she's my sister. I know she's a right pain in the arse, but I don't want to see her hurt. She tends to take innocuous interactions and give them meaning, and I don't want there to be any sort of confusion."

"There won't be," he assured. "I've never said or done anything that would give Lily any reason to believe she's more than a friend."

"Hmm." Albus leaned back in his chair. "I suppose the same thing can be said about Rose, too."

Scorpius frowned. "I thought we were talking about Lily."

"And now we're not."

"Can this conversation wait until the day after, let's say...never?"

"You need to tell her, for both your sakes." Albus sat his fork down and folded his arms. "I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out. Rose is usually more observant."

"I happen to be far more subtle than you give me credit for."

Albus pushed his chair away from the table and went to fix himself a glass of water. "Olivia's getting married."

"Olivia Jordan?" He knew the answer. Olivia and Al were practically raised together, as their parents were friends, so it wasn't much of a surprise when they started dating last spring.

The only shock was how fast they got serious. Al had never been serious with anyone and Olivia was rebounding from a long-term relationship. Scorpius never for a second thought they would last more than a month, but by summer, Albus wanted to get married and there was no talking him out of it. In the end, Olivia broke it off because she still had feelings for her ex, Kyle. They broke up in September and Al had been casually dating ever since.

Now she was getting married.

"Bloody hell, Al. When did you find out?"

"She told me a few days ago." He took a drink of water. "Don't worry, I'm not about to endanger myself out in the field or anything melodramatic. I'm actually happy for her. She and Kyle make sense in a way we never could." He set the cup down on the counter. "If I'm being honest with myself, the entire situation made me realise I want that. To have someone, I mean. I want to have someone that I can bicker and be completely honest with. Someone I can try to live without, but can't seem to. Something like my parents' relationship. It took them years to get to the point where they are now, with the war and recovery, but—"

"Don't," was all he managed to get out before Albus dug right into the heart of the matter; the real reason for this late conversation.

"We're almost twenty-one and," he shook his head ruefully. "You didn't even have to work for it. You just have it with Rose. It doesn't make complete sense, but it works, and you're being bloody stupid—"

"Me? Stupid?" Scorpius shot back. "I thought I was the logical one. At least that's what everyone says. Scorpius is logical. Scorpius has no imagination." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You know, it drives me mad." He didn't want to have this conversation, least of all with Rose's cousin, but since Al was forcing it, he might as well.

"I—" Al started, but Scorpius never let him finish.

"I like to entertain silly notions just like anyone else, but like everything, there is a time and a place for it. Destroying my friendship with Rose for that one out of a-a _thousand_ chance that we could have a-_relationship_," he choked on the last word, hands curling into fists at his sides. "That's the only thing about all this that's stupid, Al. _Not me_."


	5. Here Be Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Trouble is a friend but trouble is a foe, oh oh___   
_And no matter what I feed him he always seems to grow_   
_He sees what I see and he knows what I know, oh oh_   
_So don't forget as you ease on down the road_   
**Trouble is a Friend-Lenka**

**Chapter Five – Here Be Dragons**

It had only taken a month for Rose to fall into a routine.

Rose woke up, went to work, and had breakfast and a morning chat with Bangs at her desk. She spent the better part of her mornings trailing after Healer Brown and her afternoons catching up on paperwork while her boss went to security meetings. Before she left, Rose attended _another_ meeting where Aurors updated the staff on the ongoing investigation into the unexplained deaths where the words 'constant vigilance' were used at least twice before they were released.

Her uncle would be proud.

Rose had some semblance of a social life that mainly involved her inner circle and sometimes the newcomer, Bangs. And after her social obligations were complete, she usually went home, collapsed on her new sofa for a bit of telly time, but always ended up dragging herself off to bed before she could finish catching up on her shows.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

After the first week and a glowing report from Healer Brown, her mother seemed much more confident about Rose's forced life choices. The second week, Mum laughed her way through each of her work stories and Dad beamed at her proudly when she told them of the freedoms Lavender had given her because she'd proven to be quite the asset.

By the third week, the diatribes on the evils of ennui and the Pea Soup for the Witch's Soul books that follow her from room to room had vanished, so had the morning wake-up calls, and the vegetables. Well, some of them. Rose still took it as a victory. And this week – the fourth – came with a Free Pass from the usual mandatory Friday night dinners.

"Go have fun," Mum had said earlier when Rose had dropped by her office during her lunch hour bearing gifts in the form of her dad's famous sandwiches. Her mother was deeply focused on the St. Mungo's case file on her desk, but she had sounded sincere when she told Rose, "You deserve it. We'll see you at family brunch on Sunday. Thanks for bringing me dinner, love."

Rose couldn't remember whose idea it had been to go to a Muggle-themed rave in Knockturn Alley, but as soon as she remembered, she would turn them into a bog roll and leave them in a the dirtiest lavatory in London.

She couldn't talk herself out of it and, Merlin, had she tried.

"We're doing this to celebrate you," James had said pleasantly with Albus pulling a pouty, puppy dog face over his shoulder. Scorpius had only yawned and grumbled that they'd already convinced – read: _forced_ – him to come along. When Rose continued to decline the invite, Lily had harped on for a solid hour until Rose's will to live had broken and crumbled.

She hated all of them. Stupid Potters. And stupid Scorpius, too. Just for good measure.

So that night, instead of rotting her brain in front of the telly like she'd planned, Rose found herself dressed in clothes she had no idea she even owned. She suspected Lily had something to do with the form-fitting additions to her wardrobe.

And then, someone knocked on her door.

It was half-past ten and thirty minutes before she had to meet everyone at the corner of Knockturn Alley. She made sure her wand was within summoning distance because no one knocked on her door. _No one._ Muggles forgot what they wanted whenever they approached her door and anyone with magic knew better.

So with one pink-laced shoe on, Rose cautiously crept to the door and called out, "This building has a no solicitation policy!"

There was something that sounded like a chuckle, followed by a somewhat familiar voice that said, "Not selling anything, Rose. It's Quincy."

"Who?"

"From the New Year's party."

Like that was supposed to mean anything. "Drawing a blank, sorry."

"I'm the model, remember?"

Ah. _Him_.

Rose considered her appearance – the lack of a shoe and wild hair mainly – and shrugged. She didn't have a care left to give tonight. Not one. Rose opened the door.

And well. She definitely remembered him now.

Tall, blue-eyed, sandy-haired. The _Playwitch_ model. The model that was ridiculously not on her level. And a _model_. He looked like one in his white shirt, Muggle denims, and dragon skin jacket. Stupidly attractive. All he needed was a cig and a tortured soul and he'd be the—Rose refused to finish that thought.

Back on track.

How did he even know where she lived? Rose had completely ditched him at the party and hadn't spared him one thought since. Instinct almost had her shut the door in his face, but common sense stopped her. There was a first time for everything, it would seem. However, it didn't stop her from sticking her foot in her cake hole. "Lily says that stalking is a higher form of flattery than imitation, but I don't agree."

"Oh," his smile faltered a bit and his cheeks flushed. "No. I'm not."

"Go on, tell me why you're here then." Rose encouraged dryly.

Quincy seemed to visibly relax as he flashed a boyish grin. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"It's the ying to my yang. And you still haven't told me why you're here. I'm going to think you're lying about the stalking if you don't speak up soon. I have a wand, as you know." She looked over at the Muggle sporting equipment Lily had left in her apartment. "And a tennis racket. I'll just pretend your head is the ball, which is exactly what I did during Lily's lesson last weekend. Not _your_ head, but hers. She thinks I have a strong serve, but the truth is that I was properly motivated. I'm sure I can channel that particular brand of motivation again if necessary."

He just laughed and _laughed_. She wanted to be threatening, not funny, but apparently Rose wasn't getting her way today. Just great.

"No need for violent tangents. I'm not stalking you." Quincy told her once he'd caught his breath. "I was actually coming to pick you up for the rave. I thought we could, you know, Apparate there together."

And everything made perfect sense: her kit, the insistence about going to the rave tonight, and lastly, the male model at her doorstep. _Lily._ Rose scowled. "Someone needs to give her a slap. Somebody needs to put her on a leash and tie her to a hexed broom."

Quincy's smile dimmed. "Lily said—"

Rose stopped mentally mangling her cousin. "I'm not upset. Don't worry, you're off the hook. She likes to pry in people's lives. It's her superpower." Complete understatement. Lily pushed and pushed and pushed some more. She harped on things until Rose wanted to push her off a cliff. She'd barely managed to avoid her constant badgering about setting her up with Scorpius in the last month. Mainly because Lily had been too busy to really corner Rose like she usually did. "Sorry she dragged you into this. I'll sort out something to get her off your back."

Because Merlin forbid if Rose had actually disagreed with Lily, or declined her horrid attempts at setting her up. Not that Quincy was a horrible choice, he wasn't, but she also wasn't interested. She could almost visualise Lily's reaction. There wasn't a better sulker in the world than Lily Potter. She could bottle and market her sulking to the spoiled brat fraction of the wizarding world. She would either make millions or there would be a sulking epidemic. The Ministry would have to be brought in. Cures would need to be created deep in the Department of Mysteries. Pandemonium and sulking chaos would ensue. _Anarchy_.

So probably not, then.

Quincy rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit shy. It was an odd look for such an attractive wizard. "I actually _asked_ her about you."

The cogs in Rose's head ground to a complete stop.

"Look, I know you ditched me at the party, but I thought if we—" Quincy made a hand gesture, but Rose didn't know him well enough to interpret. "Tonight," he continued when she just stared at him blankly. "I figured tonight we could get to know each other better and maybe—"

"As mates." Rose interjected. "You mean as proper mates, right?"

Quincy sobered, looking awkward. "If that's what you want."

"It is," she assured him. "I'm not really interested in anything more right now. Sorry." Rose made a wincing face. "Actually, not sorry."

His smile returned. "I appreciate the honesty."

Rose smiled back, gesturing for him to come in. "I have to find my other shoe and finish making sure no one can yank on my hair, accidentally or otherwise, tonight. It'll be a bit." She led him into her sitting room and dashed off to finish getting ready. And to quickly plan out several scenarios where Lily's body would never be found. The Black Lake? Merpeople were too nosy. So no. Forbidden Forest? The Centaurs sort of admired her uncle. Favoured him in only a way that centaurs could. And since Lily was his daughter, she figured that idea was another no. Rose was pretty sure she could transfigure her into a bug and step on her. That would probably work.

And it would make her feel so much better.

Feeling better about the awkward situation Lily had thrown her into without warning, Rose did a few squats and knee-bends to stretch her denims and strolled into sitting room. Quincy looked up from the book he'd plucked from her bookshelf and held it up. "_Magic Your Way to a Better Life_. There's a story here, I'm sure of it."

"Just a tragic swan song of a slacker's desperate, overprotective mother."

He barked out a laugh and sat it on her brand new coffee table. Rose collapsed inelegantly on the other end of the sofa, stretching her legs across the middle. She glanced at her watch. They had another fifteen minutes before they needed to leave. Rose picked a piece of lint off her turquoise denims.

"At least she cares," Quincy shrugged. "My parents wouldn't bother."

It was the sort of comment that immediately caught her attention. Rose had her mind made up about Quincy. A pretty face and privileged life, but there was such heaviness in his tone that made her feel a twinge of guilt for categorising him. Just a twinge. She was judgmental. It was a character flaw. She made hasty judgments at first sight, but half the time she was right. The other half…well, if Rose felt bad about every person she'd misjudged, she'd drive herself batty. And it wasn't worth it. So she nudged him with her foot and asked, "What's your story? All I know is that you're model with ridiculous hair."

Quincy flashed a smile. "Ridiculous? I'll take it because I'm pretty sure that's Rose-speak for bloody fantastic."

"Learned quick, you have."

His eyebrow shot up. "What's wrong with your voice?"

Rose sighed. "Purebloods."

"I'm half, actually."

"And you don't know anything about _Star Wars_? Shame! Shame on you and everyone who let you live twenty-plus years without experiencing the American classic that is Star Wars. The last three episodes. Not the first three. _Never_ the first three."

Quincy just blinked. "I feel like I'm supposed to understand you, but I just don't."

"That's a normal reaction. I was able to educate Scorpius, who blew up the telly the first time Al turned it on. You shouldn't be that difficult to teach. I hope." She was about fifty percent confident.

Okay, forty-five.

He snorted. "He blew it up?"

"To be fair, he was twelve and trying to sort out the exact magic that made it work. We all learned a valuable lesson: magic and tellies don't mix. At all. Never." Rose paused, quirking her head to the side. "Actually, I take that back. He gets no credit. The nerd." Quincy let out a real laugh that was pleasant and contagious enough for Rose to join in until they were sighing and holding their sides. "So what's your story? What do you do beside look roguishly handsome for the pleasure of witches?"

"Modelling just something I do to earn money for my apprenticeship, my parents would pay, but I'd rather do it myself."

"Apprenticeship?"

"At Gringotts. I'm studying to be a Curse-breaker and my apprenticeship is with your uncle, Bill Weasley. He's actually the one who invited me to the party. I work at the Ministry sometimes as a Magical Artefacts expert for Ministry. Only when they need me. I freelance."

He was certainly a lot more than she'd expected, truth be told.

Rose smirked. "You're an overachiever with a pretty face, but I don't think that makes you an expert."

"My parents are magical archaeologists. They're too wrapped up in their projects to be parents, but they did make sure I knew everything there was to know about artefacts. Even the ones lost in time. They used to take me out for digs during the summer hols."

"Useful."

He shrugged. "I suppose."

Rose glanced at her watch and scrambled off the sofa. "It's five 'til. We should go." If we're late Lily will _annoy_ me to death with her I'm-disappointed-in-your-lack-of-punctuality eyes, which is usually accompanied by a what-is-your-life sigh." Rose glared at Quincy, who was struggling to maintain a straight face. "Don't look at me like that. I've known Lily since she was born. She has _very_ expressive body language. She's been judging me since day one and I thought she was a boy. In my defence, I was two and she had no hair. How was _I_ supposed to know?"

Quincy dragged his hands down to his knees before standing, poorly suppressing his amusement. "You two fight like sisters."

She gave him a dirty look. "Rude. I should splinch you on purpose."

He threw up his arms. "I was just wondering why you two hate each other so much."

She summoned her beaded bag and draped it over her shoulder. "I don't hate her. She's my cousin, but we just don't mesh. Never have. We're too different." Rose snapped her fingers and raised her hand just in time to catch her wand. Quincy didn't bother to disguise his amazement. Sheepish in the face of his awe, Rose muttered. "Don't tell Lily I can do that."

"Don't want your mum to find out?"

"Precisely."

They shook on it, but Quincy made an amendment. "You owe me the first dance."

"Fine, fine."

* * *

Shockingly, they were the first to arrive.

Rose felt the need to celebrate with a fist-pump celebration that Quincy just laughed through. She would've done more had Lily not arrived with Al and Scorpius flanked around her, and scarred her for life with her dramatic makeup and outfit. Neon green denims and a shirt with a bunch of runes on it.

Someone didn't get the family memo about what neon could do to red hair and pale skin.

"What are you _wearing_? You know the rules. No one with Weasley blood is allowed to wear anything neon or reflective. It makes us look like someone dug us out of a _grave_."

"Exactly!" Al chimed in helpfully. Judging from his attire, Rose figured he was going for the extreme too-cool-to-care look. It just made him look perpetually confused.

"I know what I look like out here, but when we get inside, I'm going to look _amazing_ in the black lights."

Scorpius and Al exchanged unconvinced looks. The latter noticed Quincy standing beside Rose and thumbed in his direction. "Who's this?"

Lily took the liberty to answer. "This is Quincy. Rose's date that I acquired for her."

"He's not my date," she shot back. "And nobody says _acquired_. Makes you sound like you bought him half-price in a shop in Camberwell. Moreover, I feel we should probably further address the fact that you look like the second victim of the _zombie apocalypse_."

As usual, Lily ignored her. Primly. If that was even possible.

"Yes, he _is_ your date." A group of similarly dressed witches and wizards walked past them, laughing at something as they turned onto Knockturn Alley. Lily looked around for James and his girlfriend. They were late and Rose could already see the pinched look forming around her cousin's mouth. Pretty soon she would be frothing at the mouth. Lily folded her arms, giving Rose a judgmental once-over. "I see you followed the breadcrumbs to my gift."

"You put it on my bed with a sign that said _'wear this or else'_. It wasn't exactly subtle." Rose deadpanned. Lily looked rather chuffed. "Oh, and stop convincing my mum to let you into my flat."

"It was for a good cause."

"I'm not a charity case."

Lily just stared at her blankly until Rose maturely stuck out her tongue.

"I made you look smashing tonight." Lily gave her another critical once-over. "I like the bracelets, but you could've done with more war paint around your eyes. And your hair. You could've done something more dramatic with it. Braided ponytails are boring and lazy. And what _are_ your shoes? I left better ones for you, I'm sure of it. Why didn't you wear them?"

"Um." Rose gaped at her. "Perhaps I didn't want to fall over all night."

Lily scowled and Quincy bravely asked, "Is it always like this?"

"Pretty much." Scorpius muttered his first words of the evening, looking slightly put out. It could have been because he looked like he'd just stepped out of some new aged hipster magazine with his denims, band t-shirt, glasses, and messy hair. He caught her staring and patted down his hair in a poor attempt to fix it. "Lily made a proper mess with it."

"I made it better," she preened. "The just-woke-up look is in again with the Muggles."

Scorpius looked like someone who had long since run out of bothers to give.

Rose sidled up next to him, poking him in the side "You look like a cheesed off hipster. You're probably judging Lily's outfit right now, aren't you? Go on. Tell the truth."

"Piss off," Lily sulked. Al coughed to cover his amusement, but not well enough because it earned him a punch in the arm from his sister. Quincy then laughed at his not-so-manly yelp. Al shoved him in the arm.

As the childish shoving and laughing match ensued, Scorpius rolled his eyes and cracked a tiny smile that was tense around the edges. Rose didn't like it so she butted his arm with her head until he glared but lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She hugged him around the waist, resting her head on his chest. He smelled like sandalwood, mint, and oddly enough, old paper. "Been in a library?"

Scorpius absently played with the end of her braid as the tension literally bled from him. "My dad's. I needed to see if there was a Dreamless Draught potion that didn't include Flobberworm Mucus. I have a patient who is allergic."

"Your dedication to your patients is admirable. Are you off tomorrow?"

Scorpius nodded. "And Sunday, too, so I'll be at brunch."

"Me too. There's an apocalypse film out now. I know just how much you _love_ the end of the world."

"I think you're projecting again, but I'll come. Supper afterwards?"

"And I won't even complain about the vegetables."

Scorpius grinned.

"It's about time you two turned up!" Lilt screeched. Rose leaned back, bypassing the strange look Quincy was giving her, to see James and – okay, Rose wasn't going to pretend she knew her name – sheepishly approach them. They were wearing matching outfits. She rolled her eyes. That idiot's hopelessness knew no bounds.

"Sorry, Matilda had a late shift."

"Mishap in the Department of Mysteries," Matilda sighed. "It took _ages_ for everyone to decontaminate."

That seemed to placate Lily. She probably remembered that not every witch James dated was a complete idiot. "Let's just go and have fun. We all need it."

The rave was well underway when they checked their wands and bags in at the door. The base thumped so hard Rose felt it in her chest. It didn't hurt. It was just odd. No matter how many times she'd been dragged out, she'd never get used to the atmosphere. Her vision blurred under the harsh, flashing lights and she gripped Scorpius' hand tightly, twining their fingers together and let him guide her through the throngs of bodies gyrating to the driving baselines of the DJ she couldn't even see.

By some stroke of luck, they ended up at the packed bar. Al immediately got in line to order drinks. Rose relaxed her grip, but never let go. Lily attempted to shout instructions to everyone, probably about where they would meet when they were ready to leave, but no one paid her any mind.

James and Matilda disappeared before she finished.

Al reappeared seemingly out of thin air with five vials of pink liquid. _Potions._

"Inhibition potions? Really, Al?" Rose shouted as she dropped Scorpius' hand to take one.

"It's light. The barman said it'll just help us relax a tad. It'll last three hours, max."

Lily popped up next to him and snatched a vial. "Thanks!" She downed it and smirked at Rose. "Seeing as you look terrified, it might do you some good."

"Is this even safe?" she asked Scorpius, who was eyeing his vial sceptically.

"Looks like it," he uncapped his vial. "The darker they are, the more potent. This looks pretty light."

Quincy and Al clink their vials together and tossed the contents back with ease and then grinned. Their newfound camaraderie was disturbing on all levels and judging from the look on Scorpius' face, he agreed. Lily started dancing in place, shaking her hips to the beat of the music. Truth be told, Lily had been right. Under the lights of the club, she didn't look like she had an incurable disease. And Rose wasn't the only one who had noticed. A few blokes at the bar had their eyes on her cousin.

But then she did some move that made her look like a cartoon character and the universe righted itself once again.

Rose took her potion under everyone's watchful gaze. They all cheered in unison.

The effects were instant.

Rose felt her muscles relax and her heartbeat steady. She grabbed Quincy's arm and started dragging him towards the dance floor. Scorpius shot her a funny look. "I owe him a dance. Back soon."

"You can dance with me, Score," was the last thing she heard Lily say before she and Quincy vanished into the crowd.

They danced and jumped around for what felt like hours. Rose wasn't much of a dancer, but Quincy made up for it with a surprising amount of rhythm. He tried to teach her, but the potion wasn't strong enough to make her even attempt to shake her hips.

No. Just no.

Regardless, she was having fun, and for the first time tonight didn't seem like a colossal bad idea. Surprising. By the point of that realisation, she and Quincy weren't so much dancing together as they were dancing in front of each other. People kept cutting through them, in and out. Witches interested in Quincy; wizards interested in her. It was wicked hot from all the bodies in motion and she was probably being judged for doing a few moves that resembled The Robot that sent the last bloke on, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered. The music was exhilarating. Infectious.

And Rose regretted nothing.

It must have been getting late because the DJ started dialling down from the almost frantic tempo they'd set earlier to something almost hypnotic. It made Rose close her eyes and just sway from side to side. When she opened her eyes again, she spotted Quincy immediately. His hair wasn't going to survive the two witches who were gyrating against him.

He didn't seem to mind.

Familiar hands gripped her shoulders and she leaned back into the body behind her, knowing exactly who it was. They rocked together for a moment before Scorpius dipped his head to murmur into her ear. "Al took Lily home about ten minutes ago."

"Why?"

"She decided to mix the potion with four Firewhiskys and chucked up on some bloke's shoes. He didn't seem to mind. Or notice."

"Ouch," Rose winced. "She's going to feel like absolute rubbish for the rest of the weekend."

He agreed. "Anyway, I'm leaving, too. I have to go in. There's been another death."

Rose turned so they were face to face. Scorpius hair was matted to his forehead and he'd inherited a red skinny tie. "Now? But the potion—"

"Should be out my system by the time I get there. She was my patient." And he was troubled by it, she could see that much. "Look, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go."

"No." She grabbed him by the tie to stop him from leaving. "I'll come with you."

"You should stay." He looked over his shoulder at Quincy. "Make sure she gets home safely."

Rose ignored Quincy's nod and stared her best friend down. He looked right knackered more than anything. Frustrated and sad. He took each loss personally and harder than he probably should. "Not a damsel, I can find my way home. Not that it matters, since I'll be coming with you."

"No."

"Yes. End of story. I took a kip after work and I know for a _fact_ that you didn't. I'll wait, do some paperwork, something. I'll sort it out. Someone needs to make sure you don't collapse from exhaustion. And that someone is me. So get over it."

Scorpius sighed his acquiescence. Rose grinned and bounced over to Quincy.

"We're heading out. Have fun with Thing One and Two." She waggled her brows at him.

"I will," he flashed a grin. "Hey, Rose." He glanced over her shoulder where Scorpius still stood. When she shot him a questioning look, he continued. "You know, from before, you should've told me. I would've understood, but I'll catch you later, yeah?"

Rose nodded, but walked away completely confused. What?

* * *

By the time they arrived at St. Mungo's, security was on high-alert and the metaphorical red tape of bureaucracy was wrapped around the ward. Scorpius was immediately granted access as the victim's healer, but no amount of name-dropping and not event the sight of her mother's bushy hair could get her past the Aurors guarding the entrance to the ward.

"It's not my fault that your security is so flawed that—"

Scorpius dragged her to a corner before she could finish giving the Auror a piece of her mind. And probably get arrested for something in the process. "I'll be an hour. They'll want her medical files and a detailed account of her care from the day she was admitted. Shouldn't take long. Breakfast when I'm done?"

"You're paying, just so you know. And we better not go to some vegetarian place. I _refuse_ to eat fake bacon." Rose frowned at the mere thought. "_Fakeon_," she whispered in disgust. Scorpius laughed out loud and it made Rose smile in response. "And then we'll go to my flat and get some rest, yeah? Because I know you won't sleep at yours."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll drop by mine after breakfast and pick up extra clothes."

"Perfect. Now I'll go do some paperwork in Lavender's office and steal some of the candy she thinks I don't know about in her top drawer."

He snorted. "Save me some chocolate?"

"You closeted chocoholic, you." Rose emphasised each word with a poke to his chest.

Scorpius twisted away from her poking fingers. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Point made. "I—"

"Scorpius," Henrietta called from several feet away. She was in her Healer's robes, but judging from the state of her hair, she'd just rolled out of bed. Her arms were folded and she looked supremely stressed. "They're ready for you." And she walked away without so much as acknowledging Rose's presence.

"Hiya!" Rose called after her. Then shot her best friend a look. "Pretty sure she still hates me."

"I'm pretty sure she does, too." At least he had the decency to look apologetic about it. He loosened his skinny tie, put it on her, lightly tugged on the end of her braid, and followed Henrietta.

Rose loitered around for a bit before she left. Healer Brown's office had been a cyclone of unorganised files and loose papers when Rose had started. In a month she'd managed to tame the loose paper into three piles: important, research, and possible rubbish. And then she'd sub-divided those piles into: really important, meh, relevant research, useless research, definite rubbish, and possible rubbish.

And she hadn't even started organising the long-term patient files yet.

That was a beast she wanted to slay with loads of coffee. And candy.

Speaking of candy, Rose broke into the top drawer with a whispered _Alohamora_ and a flick of her wand. She spent the next few minutes enjoying a few handfuls of sour rind watermelons and flipping through dull research on aconite poisoning Lavender had left on her desk. She grabbed a few chocolate bars for Scorpius and got to work on clearing out the possible rubbish pile, moving a few papers to the research and important stacks.

Her stomach rumbled half an hour later, but she suppressed it with a piece of liquorice.

That didn't satisfy it for long. Ten minutes later, it rumbled again.

And again five pieces of candy later.

"I get it, stomach. You want real food. I get it. I want real food, too, but you don't hear me complaining." To which it replied with a loud rumble. "You win. Let's find Scorpius."

She straightened Lavender's desk, locked the top drawer, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind her. Rose took the elevator back to the trauma ward's floor, but before she could get round the corner towards the ward, she was approached by an Auror, who asked her for identification.

"Why?" Rose asked, but still flashed the badge she always carried in her beaded bag.

"This hall is off limits, Miss Weasley."

"On whose authority?"

The man lip twitched when he said, "Your mother's."

And, well, mum's authority in the Ministry knew no bounds. Rose was pretty sure there were a percentage of people out there who actually thought she _was_ the Minister. "So are all the halls off limits or just this one?"

"Just this one."

Rose got an idea because taking the detour route to the ward wasn't part of her plan. "Did you know that I went to a Muggle primary school? No? Well, I had an instructor who told me something fascinating. Did you know that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line?"

"How exactly is this relevant?"

"You see, I'm trying to get to the trauma ward and it's straight down that hall. Ignore the two lefts I have to make to get there and the rights, too. It's practically a straight line. I just think that in the interest of time, you should let me through. I won't tell a soul. Promise."

"Can't let you through."

"Is it because of my argument? Because I can come up with something better. That wasn't my best work, which isn't fair. You deserve the best."

"Don't bother. You're still not getting through."

"But I—" The stony look the Auror gave her made her point past him. "I'll just go that way. You have a… jolly time standing there. I'll just—"

"_Go_."

And she went, making sure he heard exactly how she felt about the grumpy gargoyle routine he had going there. Rose could have sworn she heard him chuckle as she rounded the corner, which was just disheartening.

Just like that, she'd been reduced to the comedic relief.

That was apparently a running theme for the evening, or rather early morning now.

Only bacon could help her regain her dignity. And maybe a pancake. Or five.

She ate her feelings, okay. And they were delicious with lemon juice and sugar.

And so on she walked, passing by rooms eight, nine, and ten; forced the long way around that sent her through the halls she walked with Lavender each day.

She quickly realised that it was different at night. The constant hum of activity and noise Rose thrived on during the days was nonexistent. It was dead, uncharacteristically so, and the silence made each footstep echo through the empty hall. So she began humming and taking louder steps with longer strides, because the one thing Rose hated more than her mum's cereal bars was the quiet. It activated her imagination, waking the part of her brain that was an _absolute_ drama queen and mystery novel fan.

But it was too late.

All of a sudden, she wasn't Rose Weasley taking a familiar detour to the trauma ward. No, she was a consulting detective, deducing her way to the cause of the phantom shift in the air.

What?

Rose froze, thinking her fantasy had gotten the better of her – somewhat – good sense. It had happened often enough, but really, it wasn't her fault. Her imagination was a by-product of all the stories her parents had told her of their time at Hogwarts. The mysteries and suspicion, three-headed dogs and acromantulas, and don't get her started on the revolving door that was the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Rose spent her entire First Year just _waiting_ for something to come along and threaten Al's life.

Yes, Al.

After all, he was the one who _looked_ the most like his dad so it was only fair that he be destined to have his life threatened by a nose-less wanker with a power complex and a fear of death. It worked in Rose's eleven-year-old mind, but not so much in reality. The worst thing that happened during First Year was that Al got the flu, threw up in his cauldron, and it exploded in his face. Needless to say, Rose's time at Hogwarts was positively _boring_ in comparison to her parents' but her imagination had always been there to keep life lively.

Unfortunately, the strangeness in the air had nothing to do with her imagination. It was real. It prickled her skin and dried her mouth, which was enough for a tiny voice in her head – a voice that sounded a lot like her dad – to say, _"Here be dragons."_ And really that was just uncalled for. All Rose wanted to do was get to a place in her day where she could sit down and satisfy her soul with food that had an alarming amount of calories.

So Rose walked on with purpose and extreme focus…for all of about three steps.

Because by then, she'd reached the end of the hall and the proverbial – okay, literal – fork in the road. Which wouldn't be such an issue on a normal day, but right now, she couldn't remember which way to go. And that. That wasn't normal. Rose looked to the right, then the left. She _knew_ her way around, of course, she had it memorised and categorised in her mind along with the rest of St. Mungo's. The layout wasn't complex. If a corporeal messenger Patronus could find its way, so could she.

Confidence restored, Rose went left.

And then quickly turned on her heels and jogged in the other direction.

Not that it mattered.

Nothing looked familiar.

But Rose walked on, slowly and carefully, ignoring all the feelings of unease that seemed to grow with every turn she took. Right. Left. Left. Right. Every hall looked the same – bright, shiny, and white – nothing distinguishing one corridor from another, like a whiteout in a snowstorm. Room eight. Room Nine. Room Ten. Rose considered finding her way back to the Auror, because, really, to hell with this. But the problem with that was that it didn't feel like a life choice that would result in anything other than further confusion. And frustration.

And there was plenty of that building, so much that it blurred her vision. In no way did any of this make sense. Rose knew her way around. She knew the hospital; could find her way with her eyes shut. She shouldn't – no, _couldn't_ – be lost or confused or second-guessing herself like she was. It defied every shred of logic.

Rose stopped and rested her forehead against the wall as she did her best to think of a way out. She didn't realise how fast her heart was pounding and how badly her hands were shaking until right then. Merlin, it felt like her chest was about to _implode_; like there something on it, pressing it, and pushing it inward. Rose's only outlet was to close her eyes and take a few of those cleansing breaths her mum had taught her. In the nose and out the mouth.

_Again._

_Inhale. Exhale._

_Slower._

She had to get it together. Now wasn't the time for panic. There wasn't even a reason for such a thing. This was all in her head. All she had to do was get back on the right track. Where was she again? Room Eight. Right. Breathe. She had to find her way to Scorpius and breakfast and a place where she could laugh about this little non-adventure. _Breathe._

And she did just that until her breathing slowed and her ears stopped ringing. Her stomach grumbled. Rose was about to lament on the irony of starving in three floors from the cafeteria, but remembered the chocolate bars.

Sorry Scorpius, but survival of the fittest and all that.

Rose bit into the bar, savouring the flavour.

The overhead lights flickered.

Peering up curiously, she took another bite and shrugged it off. Nothing. It was nothing. St. Mungo's was an old, creepy hospital. And sure, the hospital boasted about the fact that they ran on a supply of magic that wouldn't fail long enough for the lights to flicker. But in the end, it was still old. Old and unreliable with flickering lights. Old and creepy.

The lights flickered again.

And _again_.

Seven years of Slytherin taught her that if something happened once, it was an accident. Twice was a coincidence. Three times – well that just meant something was wrong and she needed to make a tactful retreat. With speed. And tact. Which Rose _would have done_ had the lights not flickered once more and plunged the entire hall into darkness.

Which was just _perfect_.

Because suddenly she was in a poor remake of every stupid horror movie and that meant she was going to be the first one to die. Or get eaten. And she wasn't even dressed like a slag. Not fair.

Another thing that wasn't fair: the sliver of light peeking from beneath the door in front of her; a light that grew brighter, hotter, and more intense the more she stared. Because _that_ was completely normal. Dread and every other conceivable negative emotion slammed into her like – like a _curse_. Like a spell. Like _magic_. And that was…well, it was the only explanation for everything.

This was all part of some spell – a _ward._ A very powerful one, all things and her trip to the edge of sanity considered. Rose knew a lot about wards. Some were designed to be undetectable, but others deterred undesirables who got too close using any sort of method. It all depended on the intent of the caster. Most played with a person's mind, distracting them until they left, but there were a few out there that played dirty to the point that anyone who came too close tended to ignore the obvious.

Like, for instance, the fact that she'd passed by Room Eight more than once tonight.

Room Eight. The glowing room.

Probably not a coincidence.

She forced all the – likely magic-induced – emotions to the back of her mind and chewed her chocolate bar slowly, looking around to see if the lights to rooms nine and ten were on, but they weren't. Just this one.

Room Eight.

And it was pulsing dangerously bright as if to warn her off. She almost thought about listening, almost grabbed her wand and used it to guide her down the dark hall, but there was…_something_. A feeling, well more like a morbid curiosity coupled with the realisation that the only way out of the maze was to find its centre.

A glowing room, well, that was just it, right?

Rose took a final bite of chocolate and stood to her feet. Everything – every single shred of her good sense and survival instinct told her to leg it far and fast, but Rose's mind was made up. Someone once said that only way out of hell was to go through it. So she stood on shaky legs, making sure she had her wand in her hand and her wits about her. Rose approached the door, resting her hand on the oddly warm knob, turning, pushing the door open slowly.

And of course, the door's squeal announced her presence.

Just great.

She pushed the door open because, hell, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon, and all that…

Immediately, she wished he hadn't.

Rose stumbled forward, all her senses bombarded by light and feelings of dread and the smell of something that burned _everything_. She dropped to her knees, coughing and eyes watering, clutching her ears to block out…something. The dread? She didn't know, but it helped Rose momentarily regain her senses and breath. She forced her eyes open and—

Standing over a sleeping patient was a person shrouded in a dark cloak, speaking in an unfamiliar language and clutching a dagger that glowed brighter with each word. The words burned in Rose's ears as the air thickened to the point where it felt almost liquid. Rose desperately gasped for the breath she couldn't find, body trembling and tears pouring from her eyes. She was _drowning_. Disbelief and terror bled into shock, leaving a sort of defiant horror in the hollow of where Rose's heart had practically stopped beating.

And then it all stopped.

The air cleared and the room was plunged into an empty silence that only Rose's harsh, gasping breaths filled. The silence did something else: it shook her from her stupor to the point where she could open her eyes. She didn't even bother to wipe the tears from her cheeks, because why bother when something was standing in front of you that wasn't there before.

Or rather someone.

Bloody hell, she really _was_ going to die. How rude.

She craned her head upward. Rose couldn't see the face behind the hood, not that it mattered, because she found herself staring at the dagger – the dagger that was now glowing red. Rose's heart started racing as she held up what was left of her sweet treat and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Chocolate?"

There was no reaction.

"Oh go on." She tried again, voice shaking. "Everyone loves chocolate. Yummy, yummy, yum!" Rose choked on her nervous laughter, extending her hand out further; the wrapper nearly touching the cloak.

Still nothing.

"No? Well, I'll just take this delicious treat elsewhere and—"

"You shouldn't be here, Rose Weasley."

The voice was too high to be male, but too low to be female, and that was as far as she analysed it. Because the second they said her name, Rose's heart exploded somewhere around her knees and she panicked. Clumsily, she scrambled to her feet, stumbling backwards in an attempt to escape. Not that it mattered. Before she could reach the door, much less regain her balance, the door shut behind her with a resounding slam.

Of course it did.

"Leaving so soon?" the person asked.

"That was the plan."

The hooded person stepped towards her.

Rose almost backed against the door in a bout of reflexive terror, but stopped herself. _Never back yourself into a corner_, her dad had always said. Right. She dropped the chocolate and stepped forward, keeping her eyes trained on the red dagger. "So is this the part where you get stabby or are we just going to continue to stare at each other?" She raised her hand. "Not that you care about my opinion on the matter, but I am for anything that keeps me at about a zero on the pain scale. I'm just tossing that out in the universe." Rose paused. "Sure you don't want any chocolate? I have plenty in my—"

"One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."

"Far too late for that, I think. I'm here, aren't I?"

The hooded person looked askance at her. "Actually, that's what I want to know. How are you here? My wards—"

"Are flawless. I'm not sure which part I liked better: the part where it had me wandering around in circles like a dying bloke in the desert or the part where I nearly went nutters and had to talk myself out of having a much-deserved panic attack. Bloody brilliant, really."

"Fascinating," the person drawled, "That doesn't explain how you made it past them."

"I'm going to go with something I like to call 'Genetically-Inherited Dumb Luck'. I got it from my dad."

"Next time I'll be sure to ward against that, too." And they pulled off their hood.

In the dimness of the room, all Rose could see was dark hair and facial features that didn't seem right or natural, the face was feminine and not at the same time. Probably a glamour. She always had a hard time telling for sure. Where was Lily when Rose needed her? She could pick out any sort of glamour from across the room.

Rose watched the person as they carefully placed the still-glowing dagger on the bed of the sleeping – or likely comatose – patient. She thought about hexing them good and escaping, but that didn't seem like the best idea, especially when they knew a bit more wandless magic than she did. Summoning wands? Rose had that down. But shutting doors?

Not so much.

They had their back to her when they said, "You made a wise decision not to attack just now."

"More like tactical."

"You really are like your mother."

Rose instinctively tightened her grip on her wand, readying for a fight. "Is this the part where you tell me that I know too much and can't stroll out of here alive?"

They turned, wand in hand. That cloak clearly had a few pockets. "No, it's actually the part where I alter your memories to make you believe that you're the one who's been causing all the unexplained deaths. And then wait for a few months before continuing my…well, mission, if you will."

Mission?

"That's actually sort of brilliant, but I'm going to have to pass on that inevitable trip to Azkaban. The North Sea does nothing for my complexion."

"I had a feeling you might say that."

Rose's stomach churned, knowing just what she'd have to do to make it out of there with her memories intact. She wasn't much of a dueller in the traditional sense, preferring to let her words and reputation fight her battles, which had worked just fine for her until now.

She took a step back.

The person chuckled, low and menacing. "This is going to be easier than I thought."

Rose absently wished she'd attended at least one Duelling Club meeting, but realised it probably wouldn't have done her any good. She never saw the point of practising spell-casting reflexes when there was nothing on the line. Just because Rose could fire a counter-spell when someone was trying to make her do a jig, didn't mean she would be able to do the same when fighting for her life.

"_Stupefy!_"

Apparently, she'd been wrong about that.

Because the moment she heard the spell, Rose had it blocked before her brain caught up to what was happening. The same went for the next three spells: two different stunners and a malevolent-looking blue light that she'd never seen before. Rose was so dazed from her surprise duelling ability that she had to duck to avoid another stunner from hitting her in the chest. As she straightened, Rose brushed the fringe from her face and huffed, "You could've given me some warning. Voldemort let my uncle pick up his wand, for Merlin's sake!"

"Voldemort just wanted to prove he was the better wizard. I, on the other hand, could care less. _Crucio!_"

Rose knew what was coming and all she could think was _help me_. She tried to prepare herself, relax her muscles, focus on something, breathe, but who was she kidding? Her vision blurred and muddled as her body exploded in a particular brand of searing pain she'd never experienced before. It was indescribable, electric, and all she could do was fold in on herself and _feel_.

It was all too much, too intense, and all-consuming. She lost track of everything: time, place, and even her own mind. It was as if she were being _annihilated_ from the inside out, like every layer of skin was being stripped away and burned. The pressure was too much. Her head was going to explode. Unconsciously, Rose ground her teeth together to relieve some of the stress. But it didn't work. She heard them say _'Crucio'_ again, with more emphasis, and everything became hotter and even more agonising. Rose was sweating, felt it running down her cheeks, or were they tears? She didn't care to figure it out. She tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. She tried to focus on something, but she couldn't concentrate over the taste of copper in her mouth and the sound of her own feral screams.

But then it was over and an infinite numbness swept through her. Part of her body screamed _pain_, her mind yelled _danger_, but she was too overwhelmed and exhausted to ascertain anything really. All she could do was gather her wits. Rose heard the person move, saw them grab her legs. "Hurts, doesn't it?" They asked as they dragged her further into the room. "The good thing is that, after this, you won't remember the—"

Rose used every bit of strength to kick out and by some miracle, she landed a blow to their face. Drops of blood landed on her denims as Rose's tormentor dropped her legs in shock and staggered back, clutching their bleeding nose and swearing darkly. Groaning, Rose rolled over to her stomach and tried to get to her feet and leg it, but her stomach was rolling and her knees weren't working right.

Not that it mattered anyway, because all she heard was an angry, "_Stupefy!_"

And then she heard nothing at all.


	6. Better Than I Know Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When the tears come streaming down your face_   
_'Cause you lose something you can't replace_   
_When you love someone but it goes to waste_   
_What could it be worse?_   
_Lights will guide you home_   
_And ignite your bones___   
_And I will try to fix you_   
**Fix You-Coldplay**

**Chapter Six – Better Than I Know Myself**

The Trauma ward was in controlled chaos.

To patients and their families, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The ward, while nearing capacity, was quiet with low lighting, closed doors, and the occasional beep to alert a Medi that their patient was in need of assistance. They transferred four patients to more specialised wards to complete their recovery and handled three emergencies. The most memorable being a Department of Mysteries employee with newly diagnosed case of Vanishing Sickness. It was likely fatal, judging from the rate his body parts were disappearing, but it gave them the perfect excuse. So if anyone complained about the ward's lockdown or that no one was allowed out of their rooms, well, it was just because they wanted to quarantine the area.

Vanishing sickness was contagious and fatal, after all.

Not to worry, though. It was for everyone's safety.

Every employee, however, knew otherwise.

Scorpius noticed the tension almost immediately. It wasn't palpable. Just the little things. Like the haunted looks on a couple of the Medi-witches and the Healer Assistant's faces, and the panic on some of the Healer's faces. They all were afraid to lose their jobs. And, truthfully, he couldn't blame them. They all were. Scorpius chanced a look back, eyes searching for Rose, but only managed to catch a moment of turquoise denims and auburn hair before the doors automatically shut. His stomach clenched anxiously.

That afternoon he'd been combing through the Manor's library, looking for a replacement for Flobberworm Mucus because Ms. Shingleton was allergic, and now she was…just _gone_. He couldn't fathom it. They'd worked tirelessly to keep her alive after she'd been badly injured during a potions accident in her home over six months ago, and just when she was making a turn for the better…

It was disheartening.

Ms. Shingleton was about his father's age, with no living family and friends who had never bothered to visit. She was alone. When she'd awoken from her induced coma three months ago, Scorpius had started checking up on her more often. _Getting attached_, Henrietta had said, shooting her customary _'I have opinions on this' _look. She'd always kept herself emotionally distant from her patients; it was what made her a good Healer. Scorpius did the same, but also knew that loneliness itself was a killer.

He never visited long, or everyday. Maybe twice a week; whenever he could make time. First, he'd just talked with her about her road to recovery because she couldn't speak. Then, he'd started reading to her and telling her stories about his friends that made her smile. Scorpius brought her books and newspapers and a wireless to make her recovery easier. And when she started talking again three weeks ago, she told him about her life, about her husband who had been killed trying to protect her from Snatchers, her parents who had died long before that, and how she spent her time volunteering and making hard to come by potions for the poor.

She was a good person, but now was nothing but a name on a growing list.

"Sorry to have pulled you away from your night out…with your friends." Henrietta's voice sounded a bit odd, but he didn't have the energy to comment. Scorpius looked at his friend as they rounded another corner, heading towards the meeting room. He started to question her tone, but they had bigger problems than Hentietta's disapproval of his friends. Or rather, of Rose. That was a problem one conversation couldn't fix.

"It's fine," he replied. "I want to be here. I'm—well, I was Ms. Shingleton's primary Healer. It's only right for me to be here."

"I agree, but you're probably knackered and nothing is going to change before a reasonable hour. I could bring you breakfast later and we can discuss the meeting then."

"Thanks, but I'd rather be here. Rose is here to make sure I don't drop anywhere, but since they wouldn't let her in, she's going to work on paperwork for Healer Brown—"

"Or take a kip."

Which was entirely likely, knowing Rose, but Henrietta's tone was too disparaging for him to comment without getting defensive. "We're going to breakfast after this. You're welcome to join us."

Henrietta's brow rose slowly, disbelief all over her face. "Rose wouldn't mind?"

"You don't like her," he said bluntly, because there was no point in being modest. Still, Henrietta gave him a sharp look. "What? It's not a secret. She even knows. You aren't exactly an expert at hiding your feelings, but she doesn't care. You've been my friend since Second Year, so as long as you don't antagonise her or keep her from eating, she won't mind."

She had the decency to look properly chastened. "I…I'd like that. To come along, I mean."

"That's settled, then." He didn't waste another moment on that awkward topic. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour, but it was long enough to learn that Healer Fleet's assistant, Rowan, found Ms. Shingleton at nine when she went to check on her because she hadn't requested supper. It's been estimated that she'd been dead around three hours—"

_Six o'clock_. "That's during a shift change, but why did it take so long to call this meeting?"

"Well, they had to secure the scene, get statements from Rowan and everyone on shift, they had to call in a Squib to examine her body because, like with all the others, the magical tests they ran did nothing except corrode her body. They're about to move her if you want to go see for yourself."

Scorpius shook his head, feeling vaguely ill at the thought. "Did you?"

"Yes." At the prodding look he gave her, she continued on. "Everything was exactly the same as the others: She was tucked in; her arms placed at her sides, pillows fluffed, and there was soft music playing…like they wanted her to be comfortable. She was extremely pale, as if the life had been drained out of her. No fresh marks on her; aside from the degrading the magical tests had done before someone rushed in and told them to stop what they were doing. The examiners were new. They didn't know about the 'no magic' rule."

He remained silent for a few moments, but Henrietta chattered on.

"My only question is: how did they get in?"

Scorpius was glad she'd stopped talking about the state of Ms. Shingleton's body like she was explaining the state of the economy, but thought the answer to her question was simple. "She died around six. At that time of day, there would be people coming and going; it would be easy to slip in unnoticed. Despite all the meetings about vigilance, nobody pays attention to their surroundings."

"True," she tucked a stray bit of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm guilty of that myself. We don't walk the halls expecting a – for lack of a better word – a murderer to pass us."

_Murderer_.

His brain hadn't quite made the leap from 'unexplained deaths' to 'murder'. Perhaps because no one had uttered the word since they started connecting the deaths. Because then it would be real, and it all was just absurd. Someone killing people. In a hospital.

Scorpius could feel Henrietta's eyes on him. "Care to share? You had your thoughtful face on."

He shook his head, the lie coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I was thinking about the particulars."

"Such as?"

"We have identification badges to stop unauthorized people from entering the hospital's individual wards so it isn't as if you – or any of us – are overlooking a _stranger_—" Scorpius frowned. "I'm not saying that it's impossible; someone could have gotten their hands on the proper clearance to gain access to the entire hospital, but it's unlikely. Highly."

Her eyes widened. "So you're saying—"

"Three sects of people could pull this off repeatedly. Patients, their families, and staff, but the first is even more unlikely than a stranger walking in off the streets and the second's movements are strictly regulated as of late, it's easy to conclude—"

She grabbed him by the arm, looked around before dragging him into an empty room. She looked around again before shutting the door and spinning around. In a harsh whisper, she said, "If you're going to say what I think you are, it would be wise not to accuse anyone within earshot of anyone else."

"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm merely pointing out the facts."

"You believe someone on _staff_ would do this."

Scorpius rubbed the back of his neck. "It sounds worse when you say it aloud."

"That's because it _is _bad!" Henrietta shouted, then covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide as saucers. She waited, probably for someone to burst into the room because she was high strung like that, but relaxed when no one came. Scorpius just waited for her to continue, and quickly at that, because the meeting would be starting soon. "Look, after the war, St. Mungo's established itself as a safe place. The hospital does everything possible to make sure they're hiring the right people, you _know_ that. And if it gets out that a staff member is going around killing patients, it would just be _catastrophic_, so you can't just walk around saying things like that where people can hear you."

And she opened the door and left.

But that didn't make it any less of a possibility.

* * *

Scorpius was in the last in the final group of stragglers to enter the nearly full meeting room, which had earned him a _look_ from Henrietta and a half-smile from the head of MLE, Hermione Granger-Weasley, who sat just to the right of the head hospital administrator. Tilting her head to the side, she looked past him for her daughter and Scorpius shook his head. She seemed momentarily puzzled, but said nothing so Scorpius took one of the few remaining seats between a Mediwitch and a worried-looking Healer and pointedly did not listen to the quiet discussion about their job security the Healer was having with the Mediwizard sitting next to him.

It was something he pointedly did not want to think about.

The Ministry had done everything to keep the story about the 'unexplained deaths' silent until they figured out what exactly was going on, but people were still dying. And with each death, the chance of St. Mungo's dirty secret going public was becoming more and more of a reality. Scorpius knew how Wizarding London would react. Henrietta had been right, after all. This all was bigger than them. It was about the hospital as a whole. If people knew, their reputation would be destroyed, funding and donations would dry up, and the public cry for answers and justice would cost several of them their jobs.

And Scorpius couldn't help but think that despite all the good he'd done since joining the staff, his surname would be his downfall.

Despite all the reparations his family had paid since the war, their good deeds, and public scrutiny they'd endured, in the eyes of many, the Malfoys were still up to no good. Oh, they were gossiped about and their parties and galas were highly-anticipated events, but when things went wrong, people looked at them first. It angered his grandparents to the point of exhaustion, but his father wasn't concerned for himself.

"_Forgiveness doesn't come so easily."_ His father had told him just before he left for Hogwarts. _"I'll likely spend the rest of my life making up for my mistakes and the sins of my father, but I've come to terms with that. I've been forgiven by some, which is more than I could've asked for. The only thing I regret is what my sins will do to you. What they have already done."_

But Scorpius hadn't suffered, not in the way he could've had he not had Albus and Rose and their families accepting him. They protected him from the public in a way his father never could, and he'd been fortunate in a way other children and grandchildren of former Death Eaters hadn't. The public genuinely liked him, treated him with a respect no one in his family had received since his father was a child, and his association with these deaths threatened it all.

Scorpius believed it more when the Auror sitting across from him eyed him suspiciously. He met the older Auror's eyes and didn't shy away because truthfully, if his father's sins had indeed caught up with him, Scorpius would bear it without resentment. Not out of some demented sense of duty, but because his father's mistakes had made Scorpius into the man he was today.

Father protected him from the ambitions of his family and made sure Scorpius knew it wasn't his fault when his mother decided she only wanted to be bothered with either of them when it best suited her. He raised Scorpius to be humble, to make his own decisions, be his own person, and to stand up for what he believed. He taught Scorpius patience and acceptance, integrity and self-control. His father wanted him to be different, _better_, than he had been. He told Scorpius all about his history, especially the ugly and horrific parts, so that he'd never repeat it. His father had been there for him from the beginning, at every milestone, every Quidditch game and event, and never let Scorpius question once if he was loved. He was proud to be a Malfoy, and if being a Malfoy ultimately cost him his job at St. Mungo's, well, he'd—well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

The hospital administrator – a man named Angus Wigworthy, who was in his early nineties and oddly reminded him of a taller relative of Professor Flitwick – called the meeting to order and everyone sat up a bit straighter in their chairs, Scorpius included.

"I'm sure everyone in here knows why we're here today. There has been another mysterious death." _Murder_, Scorpius replaced in his mind and his stomach didn't roll at the thought. Henrietta gave him a pointed look that spoke volumes about her disapproval of his thought processes, but he ignored it.

When Mr. Wigworthy launched into an overly-clinical lecture abut Mrs. Shingleton's death and how it linked to the others, Scorpius tuned the man out. He knew enough already and didn't want to hear him talk about her – or any of the victims – as if they were nothing more than pieces to a puzzle they all wanted to put together sooner rather than later.

"For the safety of our patients, their families, and staff, we're trying our best to keep these deaths contained until we figure out who or what is behind this, and we need everyone's help. We ask that you not gossip about the cases with anyone outside of the hospital. And—"

"Excuse me," Hermione Granger-Weasley stood up. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Oh, please go ahead. I was nearly finished."

She smiled graciously at the man and cleared her throat before addressing the room. Henrietta sat up straight. She didn't like Rose much, but as a fellow Muggle-born, she respected Hermione greatly. "I just want you all to remember that there are _people_, who have died prematurely and under mysterious circumstances. They have family and friends that mourn them; children and grandchildren that will grow up without them. If we lose sight on that, we lose sight on everything. As the investigation continues, we should _all_ continue to treat them with the respect they deserve."

People around Scorpius nodded, some of the bigger gossipmongers looked a bit humbled.

If it was possible, Rose's mum grew even higher in his esteem, just for those words alone. It probably wasn't, after all, he respected her nearly as much as he did his own father. She invited him to every Weasley family event and vacation, took him in when Father went on business trips, and hugged him every time she saw him. Rose's mum took him to his first amusement park and helped him through each bout of air sickness during flights to Australia. She showed him how to use a computer at eleven, took him to his first Muggle library at thirteen, and taught him how to surf at twelve and how to drive at eighteen. One time, when he'd fled to their house after a particularly nasty argument with him mother, Scorpius asked Hermione why she cared so much about him. She ruffled his hair and said eight words that left him quiet for hours: _"We may not be blood, but we're family."_

Hermione moved to head of the table so everyone could see her. She flashed a reassuring smile, clasping her hands together. "I understand this is a scary time for everyone, with the extra security, the rumours floating around, and the lack of answers thus far. The MLE is working hard to get justice for the victims and to restore normality around here. In the meantime, we have to remain calm, poised, and united."

"But what about our jobs?" The Healer next to him asked.

"They are secure, as far as I know," she answered patiently. "The MLE has determined that these mysterious deaths are not the result of negligence on the hospital staff's behalf."

"Have you determined their cause of death then?"

"We have not. However, we do know a few things that we did not know a few weeks ago, thanks to a Squib Pathologist who has been examining the bodies. I can't share everything because of the ongoing investigation."

A few people shifted in their chairs, but nothing was said.

"I know we continue to ask this, but the best defence is a good offence, and we all have to be more in tune with our surroundings." A few people rolled their eyes. Constant vigilance was a term everyone was sick of hearing. "I know you all are sick of us telling you that, but you all know these halls better than any of us. You know what looks normal and what doesn't. And if you see anything or have information, you can share it with an Auror or anonymously, by note. Mr. Wigworthy has so graciously set an office up for my staff inside the hospital. I will be there weekdays during the afternoon hours." Hermione looked around the room, trying to be as comforting as possible. "This is an excellent hospital with a wonderful staff and we _will_ figure out what's going on here."

And she went back to her seat.

Everyone seemed a bit calmer after that.

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing current security measures, followed by a twenty-minute questions session that left Scorpius a bit dazed. His stomach had started rumbling halfway through so by the time Mr. Wigworthy released them, he was all too ready to leave. Henrietta was talking to an Auror so he waited outside the meeting room for her.

Hermione came out moments later with a fidgeting Mediwitch, patting her on the shoulder as she said, "If you have any further questions, Lynette, just let me know."

Lynette nodded shyly and vanished down the hall. Hermione turned to Scorpius as her reassuring smile faded into a softer one that seemed to be reserved for family. She gave him a quick hug before pulling back to look him over. "You look knackered."

"I am," Scorpius replied. "We came straight here from the rave."

"Rose is here?"

"They wouldn't let her in because she doesn't work in this ward, so she went to do some organising for Healer Brown while she waited." The meeting room door opened and a few more people trickled out, chattering to themselves as they went. He waited until they were well out of earshot before he said, "If I propose a theory—"

"You know you can tell me anything, Scorpius."

He knew, but for some reason telling her his theory made it real in a way that twisted his stomach in knots. But he told her anyway. "I don't think there's a some_thing_ that's causing all this. I think it's someone. Probably on staff. It's too neat to be coincidence and—"

"I agree."

He gaped at her. "Then why haven't—"

"We started calling them murders or told everyone that there's a _serial killer _amongst them?" Hermione finished. Scorpius nodded. "Because that makes people panic, which is the very last thing we need. The more contained this is, the better for everyone. We still don't who it is or know how they're killing them without leaving marks. Harry initially thought it was The Killing Curse when he looked through the files, but the effect of magic on the victim's bodies after death makes me think it's something else entirely."

"Like what?"

"We're not entirely sure, but we've been testing everything we can possible think of. Harry wanted to help, but every case he takes becomes high-profile, so we're been doing research at my house with Ron, but we haven't had much luck. We have a few employees in the DOM working with us, as well as a few Squib liaisons with Muggle medical experience examining the bodies for evidence, but no one has found anything significant, other than the fact that their hearts are damaged."

Scorpius was confused. "But their bodies aren't damaged."

"I know. It makes no sense, but when the Pathologist cut into the bodies, he said their hearts were badly damaged." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I hate to say it, but I'm waiting for them to make a mistake."

"Why?"

"Because there have been seven killings in nearly four months and the MLE office is no closer to finding out the truth than we were when we started investigating. Think about it: what do we actually know about this person?"

"They know a lot about the hospital and they're a bit ritualistic," Scorpius answered, thinking about Mrs. Shingleton's fluffed pillows and the music playing by her bed side.

"Yes, and they're patient and meticulous, more and more confident with each killing, but they don't seem to be on a particular schedule. The first was the sloppiest because the woman was awake at the time of the attack, but so many magical tests had been done that nothing was viable." Hermione pulled face, but her voice was confident. "Sooner or later, the killer is going to slip up, it always happens, but until then, we're gathering as much information and investigating staff and administration."

Scorpius looked at her, astonished. "You're investigating all of us?"

"Have been for weeks, now," Hermione answered frankly.

A lot of things started making much more sense. "That's why your staff has an office here now."

"It makes things easier when people willingly tell us what we need to know."

"You weren't supposed to tell me any of this, were you?" he asked wryly.

"Not at all," Hermione smiled, "But you had nothing to do with this."

"Some might say otherwise. Auror Sheppley looked at me today like he wanted to drag me off to the Wizengamot himself."

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sheppley is an old bat who believes my place is at home, cooking and cleaning and keeping house. He's hardly someone to take seriously. We're all waiting for him to retire. I have twenty Galleons on next year." She shot him a conspiratorial look and smile. "He has a bad hip."

Scorpius couldn't help but flash a small smile.

Glancing at her watch, Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder. "It's late – or early, depending on how you look at it. You should probably go dig my wayward child out of her mountain of paperwork and go get some rest."

His smile widened at the thought of Rose in a mountain of parchment, looking rumpled. "Rose is supposed to meet us outside the ward. We're going to breakfast with Henrietta. You can join us, too. I'm picking the restaurant so it won't be a fry up or a sketchy kebab stand."

She laughed. "Thanks, but I've got loads of work to do and Ron made me promise to at least get five hours of sleep. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can hold up my end of the bargain. But you're more than welcome to come tonight for supper. Ron's doing fish and chips, it's the only thing he can make without burning down the kitchen, but I can make you that chickpea curry you liked so much."

It was tempting. She always made enough for him – and by default, Al, who was a lazy sod and bottomless pit – to have leftovers for days. "I'd like that, but Rose is dragging me to the cinema this afternoon and we're going for supper after, but I'm not sure if we're still going." He checked his watch. It was closer to five o'clock than it was to four. "I doubt it. I'll likely sleep _through_ the afternoon."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "And you'll wake up hungry. How about you both just come over, we'll have supper, and you two can catch the later show. Just tell Rose I'm making apple pie from scratch and her dad brought ice cream from The Burrow and she'll come running. It'll be a bit like Pavlov's dogs."

They both laughed and laughed until Scorpius saw something just a few feet away that made him pause, tilting his head curiously to get a better look.

It was a light, intense but translucent, and strangely familiar. It changed right before his eyes, distending as though it were elastic and trying to force itself into a particular shape, but could only morph into something unrecognisable and…wrong. There was a strangeness about it that made him believe it was some sort of exhaustion-induced hallucination.

Scorpius shut his eyes, counted to five, and reopened them.

It was still there, still hovering, but flickering like a memory caught on film that had been replayed so many times that the colours faded to a grainy grey and white. Scorpius jolted when it stopped flickering, the movement caused Hermione to turn to see what had grabbed his attention. And for a long moment, they both stared, transfixed, as it changed. It looked…hurt. _Wounded_. Which was absurd. It was just smoke and light and haze. Energy. Magic.

It was just someone's listless Patronus.

Scorpius dismissed that idea.

Corporeal Patronuses, all the ones he'd seen, moved quickly and energetically; this one hovered close to the ceiling, remaining motionless as it seemed to fight its way into a certain shape.

Without thinking, he took a slow step towards it.

Hermione raised her hand to stop him, her other hand gripping her wand tight. How she had managed that, he didn't know. "Something's wrong with it. Draw your wand." She told him in hushed tones, her eyes still locked on the approaching light.

Scorpius did it without question.

It started changing again, stretching and jerking almost tiredly, pushing and pulling on itself as if it were fighting its way out. And that was when it started making noise. A distorted scream that chilled him to the bone and some garbled, unintelligible words that sounded like a plea, a prayer. It flickered out for what seemed like eternity and when it came back, it had settled on a shape – an animal – they both knew well.

An otter.

Hermione took a careful breath and called her daughter's name, the quiet panic in her voice unmistakable. "This isn't funny, R—"

The otter exploded in a bright flash that made both him and Hermione close their eyes and turn their heads. When they looked back there was only mist. Before he could even process what had just happened, Scorpius was running after Hermione.

* * *

He ran.

Or rather, he followed Hermione down the long hallway that led to the entrance of the Trauma Ward, drawing questioning looks from everyone they passed.

He knew what she was hoping for and quietly wished for the same: that Rose would be waiting outside, hands on her hips and complaining about how she was wasting away to practically nothing while waiting for him. He would take her _'Feed Me, Seymour'_ impressions and her unflappable love of pork over the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach any day.

They flashed their identification at the one of the two Aurors manning the exit, handed over their wands for checking, and exchanged looks as they waited for the doors to open. He wanted to say something, but was too busy trying to remain the picture of calm.

Not that his words would have helped in the end.

Rose wasn't there.

The entire area was empty, save for the Auror who had let Scorpius through what felt like hours ago. Scorpius dropped into the chair closest to the wall while Hermione had a quiet conversation with the Auror, who then turned and walked through the double doors when she finished speaking. Hermione sat next to him, silent for only a beat. "According to Auror Limmus, no one has come through here in the last half hour. I told him that if he doesn't hear from me in twenty minutes, he's to follow protocol and organise a sweep of the entire hospital."

Scorpius stood up. "What are we going to do, then?"

"If something _has_ happened, we need to find her before they do so I'm going to Apparate down to Healer Brown's office to see if she's there, and if she isn't, we're going to search this floor ourselves."

He pulled face. "I thought only Healers could freely Apparate around the hospital."

Hermione pulled out her wand. "I have special clearance." And was gone with a soft pop.

Scorpius barely had time to think before Henrietta emerged from the double doors.

"I thought you were going to wait for me. Where's Rose?"

Scorpius opened his mouth to answer, but didn't know what to say. He knew that if he told her, she would say, _"You shouldn't worry until you have enough evidence to."_ Henrietta was predictable like that, and that mindset wasn't working for him. All he could think about was the flickering, damaged Patronus. The otter that had exploded. "I'm not sure." He answered slowly when she silently prodded him for an answer. "She was supposed to be here."

"It's just like her to be late."

He didn't have time to tell her about what he'd seen because Hermione returned alone, surprising Henrietta, who jumped back. "She's been down there – oh, hello, Henrietta."

"Who's been down where?" She asked in lieu of a greeting. "What's going on?"

Hermione left Scorpius to enlighten her, walking to the other end of the hallway to send up a message of her own. He caught a glimpse of her otter before it vanished. His friend was still staring at him expectantly, so he just blurted, "Rose's Patronus message exploded."

"Explain." His friend's face went through several increasingly confused faces during his rushed retelling of events and by the end, all she could say was, "Sorry…what?"

"That's all I know." From the corner of his eye, Scorpius saw Hermione listening to a message from a Jack Russell, her frown deepening. After she sent two messages, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly worried, but the look was gone when she walked back over to them. "I sent Ron to check her flat, but she isn't there, so—"

"She's somewhere in the hospital," he concluded.

Hermione nodded. "She was down there, working on papers, judging from the note she left for Lavender saying she needed a bigger rubbish bin. I told Ron to stay at her flat in case she comes home, and sent a message to Harry putting him on standby."

"What are we going to do here?" Henrietta asked.

"We are going to find her, but," she looked at the blonde standing next to him, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I need you to stay here in case Rose comes here. If she does, send me or Scorpius a message." Eager to please, Henrietta nodded enthusiastically and Hermione gave her a warm smile before they left her behind.

They were barely out of earshot when Scorpius asked where they should start looking.

"At the lift."

Methodically, they checked room after room. Hermione was always in front, wand drawn, while Scorpius watched her back while she checked every corner. They found nothing. Not even a pair of snogging employees or someone taking a kip in an empty bed. It was troubling, but more so disappointing, and he wasn't the only one who thought so. By the time they reached the end of the second hall, the anxiety was rolling off Rose's mother in waves.

Or was it him?

Hermione was the first to spot the lone Auror standing against the wall not far from the lift. He looked extremely bored, but stood a little straighter when his eyes landed on them. Or – more specifically – when he saw the Head of MLE walking towards him.

He greeted them both politely.

She pasted a pleasant smile. "Auror Kempling. Any trouble tonight?"

"None at all."

"Has the body been transported?"

"Fifteen minutes ago, yes."

"Good," she said. "Have you seen my daughter, by chance?"

"Rose? She came through," he pulled out a brass pocketwatch and flipped it open in one smooth motion. "A little over…thirty minutes ago. The way you just came was closed so they could transport the body out quietly. She gave be a spiel about Primary school, points and straight lines?" He looked confused, and Scorpius could only imagine how that exchange must have gone. "But I wouldn't let her by." He shook his head a bit and chuckled. "She wasn't happy about it. Pretty sure she called me a grumpy gargoyle."

"That sounds like Rose," Hermione smirked.

"Which way did you send her?" Scorpius asked, following Hermione's lead and keeping his tone as casual as possible.

He thumbed to his right, but looked askance at his boss. "Everything okay?"

_No._

"Yes, of course," she smiled, but it was fake and perfunctory. "The hall is open again so there's no need to deter anyone else. You should report to the Staff Room for briefing and head on home. Be sure to get some rest and tell you wife I said hello."

Auror Kempling nodded and with another polite smile, he left them alone, walking in the direction they'd just come. They waited until he was out of sight before Hermione turned to him, puzzlement splashed across her face. "Thirty minutes ago?" It was a rhetorical question. "He said she went that way, right?" She pointed to the right.

Scorpius nodded. "There's a hall of private long-term patient rooms just around the corner."

"Why aren't they in the Janis Thickney ward?"

"Their families pay an obscene amount for them to have private rooms outside the ward. It was an option the hospital gave families after the expansion."

"Interesting." Hermione exhaled and started walking again. He followed. It was quiet for a few moments before she said, "If Rose ends up being fine, I'm going to make her tap dance for _hours_ for worrying me like this."

Scorpius fell into step beside her. "I'm going to make her eat tofu."

"That's surprisingly wicked of you," she laughed quietly.

"Just another thing I picked up from seven years in Ravenclaw." He said as they turned the corner. Scorpius looked over. "Contrary to popular beliefs—" The quirky smile on Hermione's face morphed into alarm and as she stopped. His head snapped to what she'd spotted and froze, his stomach turning to ice.

There was a body in the doorway of one of the rooms.

Or rather, there was a hand tightly gripping a familiar wand.

Scorpius wasn't sure of two things: who had nearly shouted Rose's name or which one of them moved first. The next moments blurred together in a whirlwind of pure adrenaline, movement, and discovery. _Rose_. Her body was lying crumpled in an awkward heap of limbs and forming bruises, eyes open and unseeing, blood at the corner of her mouth.

For the first time in his entire career, Scorpius froze. His heart raced and blood rushed just like it did each time there was an emergency, but everything else just _stopped_.

The first thing Hermione did was close her eyes. Her silent distress and shaky breaths were too much for Scorpius. His head swam with so many broken thoughts he couldn't repair. Numbly, he dropped to his knees on the other side of Rose's body and didn't breathe until he pressed two fingers to the side of her neck and figured out that he hadn't lost his best friend. He felt her hand. "She's Stunned. She isn't—" _Dead_, he couldn't say, but Hermione understood him all the same. She looked nearly sick with relief. He kept his fingers on Rose's neck. Her pulse was slow, but strong, and he took that moment to pull himself together.

To focus.

This was what he did for a living. This was his career. He was known for his ability to remain completely calm and level-headed during life or death situations. It didn't matter who it was or how dire the situation, he always held himself together. More than ever, he needed to remember that. "We—" Scorpius choked out. "We need to get her on her back."

Hermione seemed to come back to herself as well. "Right." She wiped her eyes, moving so she could secure Rose's head and neck with her hands. Scorpius moved to a more comfortable position, securing her arms and back. "We'll roll her on three. One. Two. Three."

They rolled Rose over as gently as they could, but her other arm escaped his grip and flopped to the ground, the sound of her bones rubbing together made him momentarily nauseous. While Hermione absently ran a gentle hand over her daughter's hair, he began mentally noting Rose's injuries: ankle (sprain), bruise on her head (concussion), wrist (broken), bloody nose (unknown cause), bloody mouth (bitten tongue)…

Realisation dawned on him. "We need to admit her as soon as possible."

Her head snapped up. "She's Stunned. We just need to revive her. We'll get her cleaned up and healed. We'll need to find out what happened and try to get a description of her attacker."

"That's not a good idea." Scorpius frowned. "Before they Stunned her, they used the Cruciatus Curse…more than once."

"How—" she faltered, sounding a bit faint. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen this in Aurors and Hit Wizards who get brought in. Rose's nosebleed is from the strain and her mouth is bloody because she bit down on her tongue repeatedly. She probably pulled a few muscles, too, but we won't know until she wakes up." For the length of a heartbeat, Hermione had a far away look on her face that he'd only seen his father get from time to time when he was remembering. And then it was gone. "There's no telling what all was done to her before or _after_ she was finally Stunned. She needs to wake up on her own, slowly, in a cool quiet room with low light, and not before she's given pain potions. We can send a message to Henrietta—"

"We'll take her ourselves."

Hermione wanted to use Mobilicorpus to transport Rose, but he thought it would be faster to Apparate with her. So they stood up. Hermione sent a message to her husband, while Scorpius picked Rose up as gently as he could, knees nearly buckling from a combination of exhaustion, hunger, and her dead weight that was heavier than expected. Rose's mother was right there to help take a bit of her weight off him and she didn't bother hiding her concern. He adjusted and got a better grip, but Hermione's face never changed. "You can't do this."

"Yes, I can. She's too heavy for you to carry."

"You're _exhausted_. We can call a team—"

"Which will cause a panic."

"I'd rather deal with that than having you hurt, too. Not to mention, if you Splinch yourself, your father will flood my office with Howlers and—" Hermione stopped suddenly and backed completely out the room, which forced him to stumble backwards, but not hard enough to jostle Rose too badly. "Forget everything I said, message Henrietta. She needs to be the first Healer here when I call the Aurors."

"Why are you—?"

"This is the mistake I've been waiting for_._"

And that was when Scorpius finally saw what she was talking about. What had been there with them all along. What they'd missed in their initial panic over finding Rose.

The other body.

* * *

Scorpius didn't recall falling asleep.

What he had remembered was what felt like _minutes _of restless tossing and turning on the uncomfortable cot in Rose's hospital room; his mind alert when his body was not.

How could he truly rest after everything that had happened?

The seventh victim was a man named Odin Pembroke. He had taken three stunners to the chest five years ago during a mugging near Diagon Alley, survived, but hadn't regained consciousness. He was a wealthy man and had family that didn't visit as often, but saw to it that he was comfortable so it was hard to determine if the killer had done any of their normal rituals. Not that it mattered. His body was just like all the others, but the Aurors and examiners worked with a renewed sense of purpose as soon as they figured out Odin had been dead less than an hour. He quickly became their first – and the best – chance at figuring out how the others had died.

And Rose?

Much to the chagrin of Hermione, who had taken herself off the case due to an obvious conflict of interest, Rose was their prime suspect until they had proof of her innocence.

The new Ministry appointed lead showed up fifteen minutes after Hermione recused herself and things went from bad to worse.

Gregory Caldwell was an older wizard; an arrogant upstart with obvious political aspiration and he saw this case as his chance. All he needed was someone to blame, and decided Rose Weasley – the daughter of war heroes – would do just perfectly. He had her wand tested, but when it showed that the last thing she'd done was send off a Patronus message, he had brushed it off as inconclusive.

"She could have easily done that after she _attacked_ poor Mr. Pembroke."

"Are you _mad_?" Hermione had snapped, not bothering to keep her voice low. Everyone kept busy, but Scorpius knew they all were eavesdropping. "Next you'll hypothesise that Rose used the Cruciatus Curse on herself, broke her own wrist, gave herself a concussion, twisted her own ankle, and then Stunned herself to cover her tracks. Look at the evidence, Mr. Caldwell, and stop looking for a scapegoat. Do your job so this doesn't happen to anyone else_._ The scorch marks on the walls point to a third person; a person _you_ should be locking down the hospital to find."

"I understand this has been a stressful night. You are a concerned parent—"

"Rose is in capable hands. I'm more concerned about the integrity of this investigation."

"With all due respect, ma'am, this isn't your case anymore and—"

"But I am still your superior," she shot back coolly. "Remember that."

When Hermione emerged from the room, practically crackling with righteous fury, two Aurors – Dagworth and Williams – approached her. They seemed eager to speak with her in private and she led them both further down the hall and out of earshot. They took turns talking, while Hermione listened and responded accordingly. She seemed to give them instructions that they were eager to carry out, and left quickly. Before Scorpius had a chance to question, Auror Sheppley called him over to get his statement.

Which went about as well as he had expected.

Sheppley had finished with Scorpius just as Henrietta and Stretton – a Mediwitch who had been in Rose's house at Hogwarts – finished assessing Rose, administering what few potions they could in her unconscious state, and prepared her for transport to the trauma ward. Caldwell came out of the Pembroke's room and told Henrietta to wake Rose so she could be questioned; a request that upset Hermione so badly she vibrated with rage.

"It's against protocol for cases when an Unforgivable has been used," Stretton explained.

Cauldwell ignored her. "What is hospital policy about a—" A nearby Auror cleared his throat to stop him from saying the word _murderer_ in front of people who weren't privy to that just yet. Scorpius wasn't sure it mattered. No one was stupid enough to believe that 'undetermined death' nonsense anymore. Not after this. "This is important to an ongoing investigation," Caldwell had said. "I trust you understand that."

"We both understand, but the needs of one don't control the protocol that has helped many." Henrietta had said thinly. Scorpius covered his smirk with a cough. Sheppley shot him a suspicious look.

"I'm sure your superiors would say otherwise."

And they likely would.

Henrietta had known that; her exhale told Scorpius as much. "I'm still not going to do something that will likely have a negative effect on my patient's health. I believe the Muggles call it, 'Do no harm.' However, to compromise, I'll give her a Revive Potion instead." She was looking at Rose's mother when she said, "It'll be easier on her body."

Hermione consented with a nod.

Not that it mattered.

Rose didn't wake.

Not when Healers documented and tended to her injuries. Not when they cleaned her up and admitted her to the hospital. Not even when her dad burst into her room, followed by Harry and Ginny Potter, swearing hotly about how they'd posted Aurors outside her room as if she were a common criminal. She slept through daybreak and breakfast provided by Albus; throughout Lily's oddly quiet visit and her grandmother fretting over the state of her hair.

But most importantly, Rose slept during each of Caldwell's inspections.

After Caldwell's third, Scorpius had stretched out on the cot at the suggestion of Ginny after finishing his third cup of tea… and woke up to a dark hospital room. It was silent, too, save Al snoring away on his makeshift bed of chairs by the window and the choked sob coming from across the room. He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face and turning to the source of the sound.

Rose.

Swallowing thickly, Scorpius threw the blanket off, eyes still on his best friend. She was sitting up, knees pulled tightly to her chest, forehead slumped forward, hair everywhere. Her shoulders shook as she rocked back and forth, crying softly. Scorpius got up as quietly as he could to avoid waking Al or startling Rose, grabbed the blanket, and padded across the room to her side.

"Rose?" he called her name because he didn't know what else to say.

No response.

He sat on her bed, letting his feet dangle over the edge. Scorpius didn't know how long he remained just out of reach, how long he didn't move, or how long he listened to her. The longer the silence between them stretched, the more Rose's sobs disturbed him. He wanted to leave her in peace, but couldn't. Scorpius raked a hand through his undoubtedly riotous hair, frustration welling in his chest. He wasn't good with words – especially comforting ones.

The need had never presented itself.

Rose was rarely in need of consoling. He could think of a handful of times when he'd seen her truly upset. She handled her problems in two ways: in private or not at all. And she wasn't much of a crier either, preferring Hexes and fists to tears. So whatever had happened from the time he had fallen asleep to now, it wasn't anything frivolous and…well, she needed him. Or someone. So he swallowed his discomfort and murmured her name again.

That time, he got a reaction.

"You shouldn't be here." Her voice sounded raw and strained.

"Where else would I be?"

Rose lifted her head, hair framing her blotchy and wet face. She tugged on the sleeve of her gown, looking away and down, blinking rapidly. He reached for the box of tissue on her bedside table, offering her one. She took it and loudly blew her nose, dabbing her eyes. Scorpius took it back and tossed it in the general direction of the rubbish. It missed.

"And that's why I was never a Beater," he joked lamely.

She didn't so much as crack a smile.

They listened to Al's snoring for what felt like ages before she ran her hand through her hair and told him, "You don't have to sit here with me."

"I'd be a terrible best friend if I didn't." Scorpius placed the box of tissue on her bed. "Besides I want to."

"I'm in so much trouble I can't see a way out," Rose whispered, voice devoid of everything except bone-deep exhaustion.

"We'll figure it out, trust me."

She looked him in the eye. "How can I when I don't even trust myself?" Those were words that had never come out of Rose Weasley's mouth before, and worse, she believed them. "There's something wrong with me. My mind…" she rubbed her temples a little too hard for his comfort, but stopped before he could say anything.

"You have a concussion."

"This is different."

"You don't have to tell me—"

"That's the thing." Rose cut him off. "I _want_ to. I want to tell you everything, but I want to tell everyone, too, and that's not right. That's not me, but the urge is…" Rose trailed off, scrunching her face as if she were trying to remember something. "Overwhelming and _wrong_. It's – I've – I don't know what's real anymore…" She stopped again and stared at a spot on the wall for so long Scorpius touched her arm to bring her back. Rose jolted like she'd grabbed live wire, nearly smacking him with a flailing hand. "Sorry," she murmured as she folded her arms over her knees.

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't, is it?" She squeezed her knees as if they were some kind of anchor. The question was obviously rhetorical because she didn't wait for an answer. "When I was Stunned, I could hear everything. They think I hurt those patients, don't they?" she asked, voice small and brittle.

"But you didn't, and when Caldwell comes back in, you can tell him just that."

Rose looked away, chest heaving as she fought back sobs. "I—" She choked out, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hospital gown and bit down on her lip. Rose tried to speak again, but Al stirred slightly and she ended up smothering another sob into her tightly balled fist so she wouldn't wake him.

He couldn't take it anymore. Scorpius didn't know why he did it, but he reached over and tucked Rose's hair behind her ear. She didn't jump. Not when he rubbed a tear away with his thumb and covered her fist with his own. He wanted to say something, but his mind was blank.

"What if I remember something else?" she murmured thickly moments later. "Something I know deep down to be impossible."

"Then don't believe it."

She chuckled humourlessly. "That simple, huh?"

"It can be."

"But," Rose started. "What if I can't help _but_ to believe it?" Scorpius opened his mouth when her tone took on a hysterical edge, but she stopped him. "Wait. I just – I see flashes of myself doing…things. Horrible things. Nothing complete, just fragments, like the preview of a film. And I know – I _know_ it's not me, the hands I see don't look like mine, but the memories are so _real_. I can feel the weight of it in my hand and smell the blood and even though I know they aren't real, I believe in these memories like I believe in gravity."

"Rose," he said her name as gently as he could. "What are you doing in these memories?"

"I'm _killing_ them." Tears rolled down her cheeks and he squeezed her trembling fist so she wouldn't wander off. "All the p-people who have died so far. It's _me_, I see myself, every time, and it _hurts_. My head feels like—" Rose ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut so tight it looked painful, but tears kept slipping out. She was so tense that he could see the veins in the side of her neck. "It's too much. The pressure. The memories. I see their faces in my head, I see them dying, and I want to stop, but I don't know what I'm doing, how I'm doing it. I can't see. I just see them die. And all—" Her voice caught in her throat. "I _believe_ is that I'm doing them a _favour_. What kind of twisted shit is that?"

"Try to relax," he said in lieu of a real response, because really, what could he possibly say?

"It's _wrong_." Rose finally opened her eyes, looking everywhere except at him. "It's all wrong and I don't know why I believe it. I have actual memories that overlap with these. Like yesterday. I remember you, Al, and James coming to my flat after six to bully me into going to the rave, but I also remember sneaking into a woman's room at the same time and—" She stopped, exhaling harshly. "I know the first is real, I know it is, but I can't help but _believe_ the second."

Still at a loss for words, Scorpius wrapped her up in the blanket and hugged her, staring at the wall behind them without seeing. That was simple. That he could do. That he could handle. Everything else was too much; too big and terrifying. Scorpius closed his eyes and held on as tight as he could manage with her knees in the way.

And they stayed like that.

Rose tucked her forehead into the crook of his neck, breathing roughly and trembling like a frightened child. He knew it was the perfect time to say something, anything, to take her mind off the war zone in her head, but the right words wouldn't come.

So he started talking.

Not about anything, really. He just retold old stories, some Rose already knew and some she didn't. He talked about the kid who called him a Death Eater at six, the time James' owl decided to terrorise Al and Scorpius found hiding under his bed with his old Beater's bat, what happened to Lily at the rave, the boring particulars about his father's small investment firm, and his grandparents Valentine's day ball in a few days that he'd told a few convincing lies to avoid because he knew they would try to throw him into the clutches of yet another witch from a prominent family. Scorpius talked until his throat grew raw, his leg cramped, and Al stopped snoring, and didn't stop until Rose stilled and her breathing evened.

Only then, when it was silent, could he start piecing together their conversation and mentally recalling everything he knew about the only thing that could have Rose thinking she was a killer: Memory Charms.

Scorpius couldn't remember much, unfortunately. He would need to do some research and perhaps talk to Hermione, who had more experience with them. Most of his was theoretical, at best. He knew Memory Charms were a bit more complex than many realised, which made them easier to botch-up. Muggles and the unconscious were the easiest targets, while moving wizards were the hardest. He knew that the more specific the targeted memories were, the harder they were to remove, and that there were certain variables to account for when trying to completely erase memories. It had a lot to do with the strength of the person's mind, their emotional connection to the targeted memories, not to mention, their age and several more factors Scorpius couldn't recollect.

Inserting memories were even harder. It took time. A lot of it because memories were tricky things. And he had a hunch that whoever had done this to Rose hadn't accounted for too much of anything, which was probably why their charm had only partly worked.

Rose started to uncurl like a fern, straightening and turning and shifting until her back was pressed against his chest. She rubbed her head from time to time and winced in pain, but mostly, she rested against him with her eyes shut. Scorpius just held her and held on for her because he couldn't do anything else right then.

He thought she had fallen back asleep until she said, "Thanks for staying, even though I was a blubbering wreck."

"Don't thank me, I—do you feel better?"

"Not one bit, but I'm not as scared or as out of control as I was when I woke up." Rose confessed. "What do you think happened to me?"

"I don't know exactly, but I do know you had nothing to do with any of this."

Her hands clenched in her lap and Scorpius couldn't tell if she was frustrated or in pain. "I don't _truly_ remember anything I left Healer Brown's office. "How do you—"

Scorpius never let her finish. "I know because I know _you_. Better than I know myself. You may not trust yourself right now, but do you trust me?"

Rose's nod was jerky, but it enough for him.

"Good, because I have a theory. I think you saw something you shouldn't have and someone tried – and partially failed – to put a powerful Memory Charm on you so you wouldn't tell. It explains the overlap of memories and why the false ones are choppy and strange. It probably explain at least some of the pain, too. I'm not sure, but someone wanted you to believe you were killing patients. I don't know why the charm didn't work, maybe you fought it while you were unconscious or maybe you're just too damn stubborn to let anyone compel you to believe in something you know to be false."

Rose let out an emotionless chuckle and fell silent for a moment. "We can reverse it, right? I don't think I can live like this. The headaches alone are—"

"Probably exacerbated by the concussion, but we'll talk to your family when they return. I know a few Healers who specialise in reversing Memory Charms, and the Manor's library has several shelves of books dedicated to them. We'll find an answer."

She nodded a bit more confidently and he was oddly relieved.

"How did you and mum find me?"

"You sent a Patronus. One of the Aurors thinks you sent it by accident, which makes a lot of sense. It was badly damaged and the message was…" he trailed off.

"What was it?"

"It was of you screaming, I think. And then it exploded."

Rose stilled. "If none of this had happened, I would think that was so awesome. Now I just want to know what happened to me."

"Before we can do that, you have to—"

"Lie my bloody _face_ off to clear my name with Caldwell? That's his name, right?"

"Yes, and I'll help."

"Me too," a third voice piped in. Scorpius wasn't sure who was startled more, him or Rose, who had actually shouted, _"Son of a—"_ They both jerked their heads to Al, who was lying awake on his chairs, smiling sheepishly. "So what's the plan?"

Scorpius hit him in the face with a pillow and Rose just laughed and laughed.

His relief was palpable.


	7. Angel of Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I can't get these memories out of my mind_   
_And some kind of madness has started to evolve_   
**Madness-Muse**

**Chapter Seven – Angel of Mercy**

"…everything you remember."

Rose raised her eyes to her mum, over to her dad, and up to Al, who was egging her with his eyes to start telling the story they'd crafted in a pinch. Okay, five minutes. She looked at Scorpius, who was very much _not on board_ with the lie they'd cooked up and thought they should tell her parents the truth, but was still supportively sitting at her bedside, absently holding her hand. Rose looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed.

He had a point. It was a pretty stupid lie.

And Rose, as a rule, didn't lie.

Not completely, at least.

She had spent most of her life thus far straddling the fence between dishonesty and truth, never bothering to swing the other leg over either way. Slytherin taught her not to commit to either. Being honest, in some cases, was simply not an option. Full stop. The entire truth was a messy, ugly, overrated thing. Outright lying was…well, it was simply _not on_. Rose could lie better than most – having a mother who could sniff out a lie like a hound had honed her skills. But the problem with lies was that they never went away; never stopped being lies, no matters how many truths were piled on top. And while Rose didn't have too many qualms about anything, she had inherited her mother's conscience.

Unfortunately, deception was the currency of the world, after all, so Rose decided her best bet for a minimal-guilt survival was to become economical with the truth.

Yes, economical.

Everything was an elaborate game of _Two Truths and a Near Lie._

_Truth_: Her brain was dying. She wasn't being dramatic. Her brain was being sliced open and squeezed like a lemon by some sort of invisible, lemonade-craving giant. Or something. Her metaphors couldn't work in such conditions, okay?

_Truth_: She had heard everyone talking, and out of everything, her mother whispering her name anxiously and Scorpius' stoic-_ness_ were two things she could live forever without experiencing again, thank you.

_Economical Truth_: She didn't remember anything.

Her memories were like one of Nanna Granger's three-thousand piece puzzles, but more than half the pieces were missing, damaged, binned, and/or mixed in with another puzzle. Even if she could pick the real memories from the false ones, the few she had identified as real didn't make sense.

When she had first woke up – when she was at her barmiest and her entire _universe_ was collapsing around her ears – Rose had shut her eyes again and saw three things: flashes of light under a door, the number ten, and something else that was just so nonsensical she didn't dare tell Scorpius or Al because they would have locked her up for sure.

Glowing red daggers weren't a sign of sanity, not even in the magical world.

And yet, it was everywhere; glowing malevolently in every fake memory and the one memory that didn't feel like any other. It was in her hand, heavy in her right and stabbing into flesh in her left. She could hear words in a language she couldn't understand, in a voice she didn't recognise. A chant. Rose could feel the raw power in it. The wrongness and darkness. She saw the dagger pushing into their chests; watched the wounds knit up as if nothing had happened as the blade faded to a normal colour.

It was impossible, but so real to her; so much so that she had to cling to the fact that she was right-handed, that her voice wasn't that low or calm, that she wasn't a bloody _killer_. But sometimes knowing all of that wasn't enough.

Not when she closed her eyes and saw blood coating her hands and the life fading out of shocked blue eyes. She was never going to sleep again, not without Dreamless Draught. Which was a pity. Sleeping had been her favourite pastime.

Well. After gorging on the telly, of course.

"No matter what you say, I'll believe you. We all will." Her mum said gently, tucking a bit of wild hair behind her ear like she did when Rose was a child. The growing lump in her throat made it hard to swallow and her eyes felt gritty, itchy. Frustration came with the tears that she unsuccessfully tried to blink away. Her dad thumbed it away and Scorpius gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"There's nothing we won't do to keep you safe. You know that, Rosie." Her dad said, rubbed away another runaway tear.

Rose nodded, blinking rapidly and refusing to cry. Again. _Gods_. Emotions sucked.

She hated crying almost as much as she hated feeling like this: helplessness, afraid, raw, and overwhelmed. It had been a battle to keep the truth to herself. She didn't know how she'd made it through the first time without spilling everything. Every time she opened her mouth, the entire truth threatened to tumble out. It was exhausting. Rose could sleep for days – would, too, with all the Dreamless Draught in the country, the moment she got out of here.

If they didn't haul her off to Azkaban first.

Al fidgeted, looking subdued. "Forget it, Rose. Just tell them what you told us."

"I didn't tell you everything." She choked out.

"Rosie?" Dad looked more concerned than he did the time she had to re-grow all the bones in her leg after an incident during Auror training. He rested his hand on her free one. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

And told them everything.

Yes, _everything_.

Everything she had told Al and Scorpius and more. So much more.

She told them about the glowing dagger and words that had no meaning, but had been burned into her memory. She told them about the voice and what she'd seen in the fake memories. The feelings of justification for the killings. The smell of blood. The stabbing and the skin healing itself. The fact that she felt compelled to tell, even when she didn't want to. She was honest about the pain and the sensation that her mind was being torn apart. And the truth that if Scorpius hadn't been there, if he hadn't woken when he had, she would've gone completely mad with guilt and fear.

And when she stopped, Rose nearly sobbed from the sheer _relief_ she felt. The pain was still there, but the urge to speak was gone. She was so wrapped up in the freedom she felt that she didn't realise how _quiet_ it was. Rose opened one eye carefully. Everyone wore varying degrees of—oh shit. Was it too late to take it all back? "Mum, dad, I'm—"

"No," her mum interrupted. "I know what you're going to say, but I'm glad you told us. It's just—"

"_Bloody hell_." Her dad blurted, looking woefully out of his element.

"I'm barely out of the Auror Academy," Al breathed, looking dazed and overwhelmed. "I'm _beyond_ not qualified." He stepped back. "I'll find my mum. Wait, my dad. And Fire call Bill. And grab my dad's invisibility cloak. And…and everyone. I'll gather the troops. I'll—"

Mum stopped him. "Ron, go with him." When her dad started protesting, she just pointed to her nephew. "Al's about to have kittens—"

"Manly kittens!"

They all stared at Al until her mum finally said, "There was a time when you were the normal one. I don't know what happened."

"Life," he answered, matter-of-fact. "And probably the fact that I'm a middle child."

Mum and dad blinked at him. Scorpius snorted, but Rose thought his answer was pretty accurate.

"If you needed another reason to take him with you, I think you've got it."

Dad snorted and stood, pressing his lips against her temple for a moment before leaving with Al. Rose glanced at Scorpius, who looked thoughtful. She opened her mouth to say something – she didn't know what – when he asked, "Do you think you could draw it?"

What?

"That's brilliant, Scorpius!"

"I'm so lost right now." Rose frowned.

"The dagger, Rose. Could you draw it?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "Um. Hugo got the artistic gene from Merlin knows where. It's all stick figures and embarrassingly lopsided circles with me. _Roxanne_ draws better than me, which is saying something because she once drew a picture of me that looked like one of the flying monkeys from _The Wizard of Oz_. It was green and everything. Uncle George said it was a masterpiece because he's not funny, _at all_."

When Scorpius smothered his laugh with a cough, Rose glared, but it lacked its usual heat. She could feel the headache building. Bugger.

Mum just rolled her eyes. "Think you could describe it to him?"

"It's hard to forget, so yes." She reached over and snatched a pain potion from her bedside table, swallowing it down in two gulps. The result was instantaneous.

Her mother's frown deepened. "You're only allowed three every six hours. That's your second one in the half an hour I've been in here. You should try those meditation exercises we talked about before. It'll help with the pain."

"But potions are easier." And meditation required that she close her eyes and that was simply not an option.

"And when the potions run out?"

"One of you could always just stun me again." Scorpius made a disapproving noise to match the one on her mother's face. "Too soon?"

Her mother scoffed. "Normally, we would usually have _words_ about how bad it is to use your humour as a defence mechanism, but," a smile formed on her face. "I have had the night and morning from hell and I actually find it comforting."

"That I lost my mind, but not my humour?"

"You didn't lose it, Rose." Scorpius needlessly reminded her. "Someone tried to Charm your memories to cover their tracks."

She looked at her mum. "Can we fix it? I'd like to go back to the days when I didn't think I was a vigilante killer." Because that was always at the back of her mind, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

"It's already on the mental list." Her mother tapped her head. "Right under getting Hugo to sketch that dagger and keeping you out of Azkaban."

"Nice to know where my mental health stands with you," she half-joked.

"You seem to be coping better now."

"Because you all are tethering me to reality." She tilted her head at her and Scorpius' entwined hands. "_Literally_, in some cases."

"We're not going anywhere, Rose, but we have problems to sort out. Besides, I think I know someone who could reverse a Memory Charm like that and keep it completely off the record. You happen to be her daughter."

Rose straightened. "So what are we waiting for? Operation: _Fix Me Before I End Up in Here Permanently_ needs to commence."

"You capitalised that." Scorpius intoned dryly.

"Of course I did. For _reasons_—"

"Important ones, I'm sure," Mum interrupted. "I would reverse the Charm right now, but the problem is that you're likely to forget all the fake memories rapidly."

Rose blinked. "I'm not seeing the problem yet."

"She needs a sketch of that dagger." Scorpius reminded her.

Her mother nodded and rubbed Rose's leg when she just sighed. "Like it or not, your brain – however wonky you think it is – is the missing link that explains a lot of things about the murders. I may not be part of the investigation, but I still plan to finish what I started, in a more unofficial capacity. Which is how this whole investigation started, to be honest. The first thing we need to find out everything about that dagger in order to have a hope of figuring out who is killing patients and stop them."

Rose frowned. "And the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…of the one."

"I'm ignoring the fact that you're quoting Star Trek because it's not that black and white for me. You're my daughter and your needs come first to me. No matter what. It's really up to you, Rose. I can reverse it right now, if that's you want. We know enough to start from somewhere."

Scorpius shifted in his seat, squeezing her hand a little. "The Restricted Section at Hogwarts and the libraries at the Manor have plenty books about magical weapons. I could always start at the Manor later on, even if that means having to attend that my grandparents' Valentine's Day gala. My dad would help us, too."

"And we could go to Hogwarts next weekend to look there," her mum decided. "So whatever you decide will be fine."

Honestly, Rose wanted answers…almost as much as the Ministry. Or her mother. And it wasn't because of her _obvious_ personal reasons or because she wanted to work in a murder-free zone. Both were motivating enough, but when it came down making her choice, all Rose could think was: _what if they did this to someone else?_

And what if the next person didn't have anyone to keep them grounded in reality?

"Rose?"

She thought of someone else waking up to the memories of the blood on their hands and empty eyes staring at them in shock; the obsession and the overwhelming high that came with taking a life. The first time it was terrifying, but she'd pushed it back to—wait. No. That wasn't real. That wasn't her.

_Focus_.

"Snap out of it."

She thought of someone else remembering the dagger and the disgusting feeling that they were saving the victim from a life of pain and misery; where everyone took one look at them and judged them with one breath while pitying them with the next.

"Breathe, Rose."

No one deserved that.

"It's not real. None of it is real. _Remember_."

Rose would love to go back to her normal life because being in the eye of a hurricane was overrated as hell. But how could she go back? Even if Mum scrubbed the memories from her head, it didn't change the fact that everything was different now. It didn't change what had happened. Or what could—

"_Oww!_" She yanked her throbbing hand out of his, cradling it against her chest like a newborn kitten. "_Merlin_ –_ bloody Christ_ – _Oww!_ Son of a—what the absolute _hell_ was _that_, Scorpius!"

He didn't look the least bit apologetic, the wanker. She was _so_ going to sic Lily on him.

"You left the room," her mum told her, looking worried.

"I'm right here, oh my—"

"You were in some sort of trance," Scorpius said, a bit flustered. "You were _talking_."

Her mother looked at him, then back at Rose. "I said your name like twenty times and tried to remind you that nothing you were seeing and saying were real, but you kept talking about—"

"I didn't say a thing."

"Yes, you did. You said a lot. Mainly about how you were killing people to save them."

Rose froze, eyes widening. "Oh."

"_Oh_ would be correct." Mum patted her knee, trying not to look worried, but failing miserably. "Scorpius thought pain would snap you out of it. It worked."

"Obviously." She glanced over at her best friend. "Sorry I called you a wanker and threatened to sic Lily on you like a rabid dog."

He looked confused. "But you didn't…" Then he glared, "You thought it."

"You assaulted my hand! I think 'wanker' was nice in that particular situation. The Lily thing, however…it was rude of me to remind you how much she wants to—" Scorpius made an undignified squawking noise. She used that moment to look at her thoroughly unamused mother and smile brightly. "Defence mechanism, remember?"

Mum obviously knew how to pick her battles because she just rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of defence, they always say a good one is the best offence so we should get Hugo here, sooner rather than later."

Scorpius stopped glaring at her. "So you'll do it?"

"I want to help." She told them both. "And if that means staying nutters for a bit longer, I'll do it. Just." Rose frowned, feeling oddly vulnerable all of a sudden. Which was the worst. "Just don't let them take me to Azkaban, okay? I'm not made for prison life. I have a new sofa to think about. And all my shows on the telly. Not to mention the ice-cream in the freezer that I just bought. It _needs_ me."

There was so much eye-rolling that Rose was sure one of them would pull an ocular muscle. Rude.

"I won't," Mum reassured. "Or rather, you won't give him a reason to take you."

Rose blinked. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I've had a few hours to come up with several contingency plans. I think Plan F will be the most effective, but it'll involve some work on your part."

"Still not following."

"You're going to lie," she told her daughter bluntly.

Rose just stared at her. "I couldn't even lie to you and you didn't even have to turn on The Face."

"I'm going to ignore that bit because we have Caldwell to get rid of." Which, well, she had a point. "What you're going to tell him is much better than that half-baked story I hope to never hear in my lifetime."

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

"Yes, it was." Scorpius butted in.

She made a face.

"You couldn't even _begin_ telling it," Mum pointed out.

"I was _emotional_. Dad was giving me the worried eyes and Al was all remorseful about a lie I hadn't even begun telling. I just experienced trauma. Real trauma! I can't be judged for my actions or tears. Normally, I'm a wonderful liar as long as I have great material to work with."

"That's so reassuring," her mother intoned dryly. "Luckily for you, I prepared that 'better material' you just mentioned." Mum reached down and pulled out a thick bunch of parchment from her bag. Rose took the offered parchments and whistled lowly. "I wasn't sure if you would remember, so I had two Aurors copy the notes from the evidence collected in the room they found you in."

"Pretty certain that's illegal."

"You're talking to someone who kept Rita Skeeter in a jar until it suited me to let her go." Mum pointed out, flashing a rather scary smile. "Between this and what Scorpius undoubtedly told you, it should be enough." She pointed at the parchment. "I highlighted the important parts."

Scorpius just gaped, but her mum just stared back, perplexed, like she didn't understand his surprise. Rose wasn't the least bit shocked. Not about that, at least. Her mother was forever three steps ahead of everyone.

Rose fingered the edge of the parchment, eyes skimming over the part of the report that talked about the scorch marks on the walls while her mum continued talking. "I sent your dad away with the hope that Caldwell will come while he's gone. Your dad's worried and his temper will keep him in here longer than he needs to be and I want him to come in, get your statement, clear you, and leave as quickly as possible."

Again, the level of preparedness wasn't much of a shock.

The surprising thing to Rose was their unshakable faith in her. They all believed in her when she didn't really believe in herself. They trusted her. Her mum was breaking all sorts of laws to protect her and hadn't even contemplated it for a second. And Scorpius – the stickler that he was – hadn't complained about being an accessory to actual crimes. It was blowing her mind. Seriously. And while Rose wasn't one for expressing deep emotions – or knowing how to deal with them – she couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly appreciative for them. For everyone, really.

And she didn't want to let any of them down.

So she read everything while her mum brushed her hair and Scorpius peeked out the door. Rose asked questions, made mental notes, and pieced together the events from the incident. And then they created a much better story based on the evidence found. And for a solid ten minutes, she rehearsed while Scorpius filled in holes and Mum played Devil's Advocate. Rose took a break to test out her legs by stretching at her bedside and taking a few shaky steps towards the door with her mum right behind her, making sure she didn't break her face on the floor.

There was a knock on the door.

They all froze.

* * *

It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that Caldwell wanted so badly for her to be guilty.

He wanted to get right on with the interrogation, but Henrietta came strolling in to check on her. Impeccable timing, really. She had loads of questions that Rose didn't mind answering because it gave her time to settle after they'd spent half a minute rushing to shove the highly illegal parchments into her mum's bag, swallowing another pain potion to clear away the beginnings of a headache, and getting her back into bed. Caldwell waited off in the corner, glaring at Rose as if she were responsible for all the evil in the world.

Which was just ridiculous.

Innocent until proven guilty was a foreign concept to him.

Henrietta eyed the empty vials on her bedside table before cocking a brow at her. "How is your pain?"

"I had a headache. Several of them."

"So I see." She checked her bruises and healed injuries Rose had no recollection of getting. "Since you were unconscious for a few hours, I'm going to suggest to you what I suggest to anyone who's had a concussion. Rest. No physical or mental exertion, at least for the next day or so. If you go to sleep, someone needs to wake you every few hours to make sure you wake normally."

"Wait. So that means my telly marathon—"

"Postponed. For the next day, at least."

Rose sighed, but nodded.

"Have you tried walking?"

Rose nodded, but Henrietta had always been a sadist in one form or another. She made her try again now that she was here to watch. It was about as successful as it had been the first time, only worse because she'd nearly taken out Scorpius when she stumbled backwards into him. He ended up having to carry her back to bed because she was too tired to make it back herself, which was just shy of humiliating.

"Why can't she walk?" her mother asked.

"She _can_ walk. We fixed all her pulled muscles and her fractured ankle, but her balance is likely shot from the concussion and the sheer amount of potions she's on. You should be back to normal in a few more hours. I suggest regular exercise for the next six weeks – starting in two days – to properly rehab your ankle."

"Lily will just _love_ that." Rose rolled her eyes.

Scorpius and her mother snorted. Henrietta even smirked as she checked Rose's wrist, making her bend and flex it, make circles, and wiggle her fingers. "Is there any pain?"

"It's a bit sore, but manageable."

"That's good to hear." Henrietta looked at Rose's chart and made a few notations with her quill. "Well, overall, you look much better than you did when we first found you. Are you hungry?"

"_Starved_."

"I'll have a Medi-witch send you up some breakfast. I think there's bacon."

"I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you." She paused. "When can I go home?"

"Ideally, you would stay overnight for observation, but I'm positive that if I release you into your family's care, they'll keep an eye on you."

"We will." Her mum assured quickly.

"Then I see no reason to keep you any longer. Mr Caldwell, I'm all finished now."

Well, there was no time like the present.

"I'd like to talk to you alone." Caldwell shot her mother a look.

Henrietta cleared her throat. "She's been through a serious trauma and, as her Healer, I'd like to stay and make sure—"

"Fine, fine." He waved her off, impatiently.

Her mother and Scorpius rose from their chairs without argument. "We'll be just outside, Rose."

Rose nodded and watched them go. The door clicked shut and Caldwell's smile staled. "So Miss Weasley, we meet at last."

She blinked. "That doesn't sound creepy _at all_."

Henrietta smothered her chuckle.

"I don't think this is a laughing matter," he chided.

"Oh, believe me, I know it isn't. But for the sake of my sanity, let's say we cut the dramatics and I'll tell you everything I remember? Fair?"

* * *

In the end, it all was anti-climatic.

She told Caldwell everything she'd rehearsed with her mum and then he tried to pick holes in her perfectly constructed story. Tried and failed.

Then he resorted to trying to scare her into confessing. Which was just idiotic. His intimidation tactics were so awful they were sort of funny. More than once Rose found herself covering her laughter with coughs or sips of water. And more than that, she found herself shooting Henrietta expressive looks because she was trying to figure out when her life became a two-star cop movie.

Unfortunately, Henrietta was too busy staring blankly at Rose's file to provide any answers or entertainment.

Pity, really.

It wasn't until he lost his composure and started outright telling her that she'd killed all those people that Henrietta's head snapped up. Rose was too busy staring dispassionately at Caldwell, who looked moments from having a stroke, to see her old classmate move from her chair. The highlight of the entire interview was watching as Henrietta berated his unprofessional attitude and told him to leave if he didn't have any further evidence of her guilt or questions for her to answer. They went tit for tat for a solid five minutes before Caldwell told Rose that if he so much as got a _sniff_ of evidence implicating her that he would be back. Then he told her not to leave the country and left, slamming the door behind him.

How rude.

No matter.

Henrietta maintained her defensive stance, taking heaving breaths and clenching and unclenching her fists, after the door shut. She was completely red in the face and she practically radiated with anger and something else Rose couldn't identify.

Oh well.

Henrietta had always been an enigma to her.

Rose managed to stay silent for a full minute – just to be sure he wasn't coming back – before she exhaled loud and long. "Bloody _hell!_ I could murder an entire _pig_ right now." Henrietta whipped her head around, looking completely unhinged and murderous. "I know—"

"I don't give a damn about that!" Henrietta exploded, which stunned Rose to silence.

Well, not for long.

"Um?"

"You _lied!_ You lied to him! For Merlin's sake, Rose! You just lied to the Ministry!"

_Oh, hell._

Rose's appetite vanished as her stomach crashed somewhere in the region of her knees. As Henrietta raged on, Rose just blinked wildly, panicking and trying to figure out what the hell had happened and how she'd figured it out. Rose had been perfect, telling the created story as if it were her own. Hell, she'd half believed it, too, and _everyone_ knew that a good liar believed their own story. Where had she gone wrong?

"Well?" the Healer snapped. "Don't you have something to say?"

Rose tried to tame her racing heart and answer her seriously, but she fell back on her default: sarcasm. "Mind yelling that a bit louder, I'm sure the wizards in Argentina haven't heard you yet."

And bad sarcasm, at that.

Henrietta just balked before making a noise that sounded more dragonish than Rose was comfortable with. She scooted further up the bed as Henrietta advanced like a lioness protecting her cub. Or staring in the face of dinner. Whichever.

Oh gods, she was going to die. Henrietta was going to sever her limbs and bury them at sea in separate boxes. And probably before she got to eat any delicious bacon.

"Are you _serious_? Gods, you just lied about a Ministry investigation that you were the _prime suspect _in and you want to have a bloody _joke_ and _laugh_ about it? Well ha bloody ha! You are so bloody funny! Let's see what jokes you'll come up with after I go out there and tell him everything!"

Rose opened her mouth to talk, but shut it again because Henrietta started hyperventilating and clutching her chest.

"Um."

"Oh gods," she panted, looking positively mad. "I should've told him the moment I figured it out. I let him walk out of here and now I'll be an accessory to _murder_, Rose, and it's your fault!"

"You should probably breathe."

"No! I can't breathe because I am going to Azkaban, Rose! I'll never get promoted to Head Healer and I'll never become a hospital administrator! Because of you, I'll never step out of my perfect sister's shadow. She just got promoted, did you know that? She's now the department chair of Asian Languages at Oxford and she and her husband just had a baby!"

"Congratulations on being an aunt?"

She was ignored.

"How can I possibly compete with that?" Henrietta ranted. "I'm the only witch in my family and that lost its novelty in Second Year, I'm still horrifically single, I make no money, I live alone with two cats, and my mum can't even brag about me because of the Statue of _sodding_ Secrecy!" Henrietta looked sick. "Oh gods, my mum! She's going to cry when they ship me off to Azkaban because I'll never marry a wizard and give her magical grandchildren!"

Her priorities were obviously out of order, but Rose wasn't about to tell her that because she valued her life.

"Erm. I—"

If looks could kill… "What could you _possibly_ have to say to me?"

Rose chose her words carefully, but in the end, it didn't matter. Scorpius chose that moment to open the door, bearing a plate of food. He froze immediately when Rose started wildly gesturing for him to escape while he could. "Everything all right?" he asked carefully, coming in further and shutting the door behind him.

"No everything is not fine! Did you know that Rose lied to Caldwell?" Henrietta immediately scoffed. "Of course you know. You probably helped her."

Scorpius blanched, but didn't deny it. "How did you figure it out?"

If possible, Henrietta looked even more betrayed. "You're in on it?"

"Yes, but I need to explain. But first, how did you know?"

"Rose has a tell."

That was news to her. "I do?"

"Yes, you do," Henrietta answered, tone venomous. "And no, I won't tell you what it is."

Bugger.

Scorpius set the food down on the tray near the door, looking more calculating than Rose had ever seen him. When he spoke to his friend, he kept his stance open and arms at his side. It practically begged for her to listen. Rose wished him all the luck. Maybe he could distract Henrietta long enough for her to make a run for the food.

_Priorities_.

"Well, Scorpius, are you going to explain why I shouldn't go find Caldwell and tell him what I know?"

"You're not going to tell him anything."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you know Rose didn't kill anyone. She didn't set foot in St. Mungo's until after the third death, she was at dinner with her parents at the time of two of the deaths, and I was standing in her sitting room when Ms. Shingleton was dying. You saw her injuries. She didn't do any of this."

Everything was tense and quiet for what felt like forever before Henrietta spoke again. "Then why lie?" She asked, sounding far more like the overly-rational, fun-killer Rose knew.

"It's complicated," she replied cagily.

"Explain."

And Rose did, but only after an encouraging look from Scorpius. When she finished, Henrietta wobbled to the chair and collapsed in it, looking five years older. "So that's why I lied," Rose finished lamely.

Henrietta looked as if she were still processing when she asked, "Do you know what could happen if any of this got out?" Her eyes locked on Scorpius. "This could _ruin_ you. Everything you've worked for. Gone."

"I'm aware."

"And she's worth it?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

She said nothing. Then, "You're an idiot."

"Rose is my best friend—"

"And you're mine!" She yelled. "I know you don't—gods," Henrietta chuckled dryly. "I know how little I matter in the overall scheme of things. I've always known. I know I sound jealous, but I'm not. Really. I just know my place, is all. And normally I don't say much about your friendship with Rose. I know how it makes you feel, but I can't – no, I _won't_ – just stand here and let you throw your career away for _her_."

"Harsh." Rose intoned wryly.

Scorpius opened his mouth to argue, but Henrietta silenced him with a cold look and turned fierce eyes back on Rose. "I don't think I've ever hated you as much as I do in this moment."

"Nice to see that you're finally admitting it," she uttered tonelessly. "I—"

"You're annoying, oftentimes lazy, and a flake. You haven't grown up at all since school, and at the rate you're going, you'll always be stuck where you are right now. You get everything handed to you; you got this _job_ handed to you. You depend on your family to clean up your messes while you pretend to be this independent free spirit who could care less who you're related to. You're selfish, Rose, I'll believe that even more if you let him or your mother get involved your mess."

Rose was gobsmacked.

When Henrietta inserted herself into Scorpius' life Second Year, she'd had so many opinions about her and none of them were pleasant. Henrietta was a pompous arse; a judgmental Muggle-born elitist (oxymoron much?), who hadn't made a single friend her entire First Year because no one could tolerate her and she couldn't be bothered with those she considered beneath her (read: everyone, except for the professors). Rose never knew why she'd picked Scorpius to be her first friend or why he decided to talk to her in the first place, but there was nothing to do about it. From the start, Henrietta looked down on Rose for a myriad of reasons that seemed to grow and develop over the years, but Rose held her tongue because Scorpius had seen something in her worth befriending. By the time they graduated, her dislike for Henrietta had transformed into indifference.

Well, not anymore. She was done keeping quiet.

"Are you done?" Rose asked coolly. "Because if you are done being a self-righteous arse, you should probably know you aren't the first person to say any of that to me. You won't be the last either, I'm sure of it. We might've gone to school together and you might've heard about my antics through other people or the media, but don't presume that you know enough about me to pass any sort of judgment."

"It—"

Rose didn't let her speak another word. "I'm not stupid. I know what's at stake for both of them. I didn't ask for their help. They didn't offer it. And you're an idiot if you believe that I could _possibly_ tell my mother or Scorpius to bugger off. Dogs with bones, the lot of them."

Scorpius snorted. "Accurate."

Henrietta stiffened.

Rose fixed her glare on the standing witch. "Do you want to know why Scorpius is here, Henrietta? Because when you care about someone as you claim to care about him, you don't think about the consequences, you don't think twice about trying to protect them. Their mess becomes your mess, and you don't walk away from them because you aspire to be a – a bloody _hospital administrator _someday!" Scorpius rested a hand on her arm that was shaking. Huh. When had he come over? "Everything you've said about me is probably true, I'm as knowledgeable about my flaws as you are ignorant about yours, but at least I know what's truly important. At least _I _have my priorities in order."

All the self-righteous anger seemed to bleed from her.

Scorpius slipped his hand into Rose's and squeezed it. "My priority is here, Henrietta." He told her. "I'm not deluded enough to think any of this is my fault, but I am the reason she was in the hospital at all. She came to be a good friend and make sure I didn't run myself into the ground—"

"Or Splinch yourself," Rose supplied helpfully.

"That, too." He rolled his eyes fondly. "She didn't ask to be attacked and have her mind muddled with."

"I—"

Scorpius held up his hand to stop her, just as she'd done to him before. His voice was as cool as Rose had ever heard it. "We're going to figure out who did this and put them away for it. You can run to Caldwell and make things harder...or you can stay and help."

Henrietta started at him baldly for a moment before exhaling. "Let the record show that I do not approve of this."

"It's noted."

To Rose, she added, "Also that I still am not your biggest fan."

"The feeling is absolutely mutual," Rose drawled.

"Fine. Now that we've gotten that cleared, what do you need me to do?"

"Expedite Rose's release."

Henrietta slowly nodded and left without another word.

Rose fought every childish urge to make rude gestures at her back and Scorpius just snorted. "Maturity looks good on you."

"I have bigger problems than all the unsurprising things Henrietta thinks about me. Where's my family?"

"Harry called in a few favours and secured an emergency Portkey for Hugo. He'll be here in an hours. Ginny told everyone what was going on and you all must have a contingency plan or something because everyone seemed to know what they were supposed to do and scattered."

"Ah, Operation: _There's A Mystery Afoot_. I was supposed to bring my dad's deluminator. It's in my room."

"Not even going to pretend to understand that."

"The streetlights outside my flat are bright."

Scorpius just blinked. "Anyway. Al went to the flat to pack me a bag. Lily went to yours to do the same." Rose groaned loudly. "Your parents Fire-called my dad to fill him in and he thinks we should combine our research efforts and start at the Manor. Your dad agreed to it. Hence the packing."

Rose blinked. "My dad did what now? He hates the Manor almost as much as mum does."

Not to mention the fact that their fathers famously _did not get on_.

An understatement, actually.

"My dad hates it more than both of them combined, but he abruptly decided to work from home and is there now, digging out every relevant book for us to start on."

"But—"

"Priorities, Rose. We have them."

She didn't say anything else on the subject.

Henrietta returned a few minutes later. She didn't bother with pleasantries. "You'll be discharged within the hour."

"Great." Rose paused. She was the bigger person. "I know you don't particularly like me, but thanks."

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for him." She glanced at Scorpius. "Regardless of what you think, I was just looking out for you. I do care, after all. You're my oldest and the only person to stick with me, no matter how difficult I am to get on with."

"I know." Scorpius nodded and looked down, then at his friend, expression serious. "And I'm just looking out for her. She's always done the same for me, ever since I knocked on the door of her and Al's train car, looking for a seat because no one else would let me into theirs."

Rose looked at him, mouth pressed in a hard line as she remembered how bloody terrible everyone had treated him in the earliest days of their friendship. It was something they didn't reminisce about too often. They had known just how lonely he'd been before they came into the picture (and Al bloodied Dustin McLaggen's nose right before Sorting because he'd called Scorpius a Death Eater. Dustin was the first in a month-long string of Albus-related bully-punchings that ended abruptly when Scorpius promptly floored a Fourth Year who taunted him about using Albus Potter to fight his battles. The detention she'd received for cheering for him had been worth it.)

Absently, Rose leaned against Scorpius like she had done multiple times during their first month of school when he'd needed a little human contact to make things better. He gave her a fond look like he knew what she was trying to do and smiled. Rose grinned back.

Henrietta was quiet for a bit, but didn't bother letting up on the probing looks she was sending Rose's way. "You don't remember anything after you walked into that room?"

Shaking her head, Rose explained everything she remembered when her mum and Scorpius found her. "Well, I became as conscious as someone who's been Stunned can be. I faded in and out over the hours," she paused and added begrudgingly, "Thanks for letting me come round naturally."

"I didn't. You didn't wake up after we administered the potion."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well. It's good I didn't wake up. I imagine the alternative would've been bloody _awful_ as I would've immediately started screaming my head off about being a killer because I believed it and felt compelled to tell everyone, even though I remember otherwise."

"Do you still believe you did it?"

"Yes," Rose answered immediately. "I just…" she looked at her best friend. "I have people reminding me that nothing I believe is real."

"And your mum can fix it?"

"So she says, but I have to wait until my brother sketches the dagger."

"The one that someone is stabbing patients with."

"Right."

"To put them out of their misery."

"So I believe."

Henrietta frowned and didn't say anything for several minutes. Scorpius summoned the tray over to Rose, who promised to name her firstborn after him as she tucked into her food. The bacon was a cold and the eggs were overdone, but it didn't matter. Food was food. There was a fruit salad that Rose didn't completely hate and a hunk of bread that was the first to get eviscerated. She ate as happily as she could with everything going on, Henrietta stood silently, and Scorpius made her shove over a bit so he could squeeze in next to her and figure out how many forkfuls of her fruit salad he could steal without getting stabbed.

Normality was on its way to re-establishing itself, well, at least it was until Henrietta seemed to come back from wherever the hell she'd gone and blurted out, "Angel of Mercy."

They both froze.

A bit of egg landed on her hospital gown. "Sorry, what?" Rose took scooped it up with her finger and ate it. Desperate times.

"That's what's going on. It's an Angel of Mercy."

"Still not following."

Henrietta looked highly impatient. She jumped out of her chair and paced back and forth in front of Rose's bed. "All the people who have died so far have been gravely injured or were on death's doorstep, right?" They nodded. "An Angel of Mercy is someone, usually a caregiver, who kills because they've decided their victims are better off dead than suffering. They use what they know to stage their crimes so people think it's an accident or natural."

"Nothing about that dagger is natural," Rose pointed out.

"Well, no, but when we find the bodies, we don't know they've been stabbed."

Scorpius shifted a bit. "Had they all not started dying exactly the same way and within weeks of each other, we would have never known anything was wrong. We would have assumed that they had died from their pre-existing injuries."

"Exactly! Which brings up the second part of this, which is worse, if I'm right. Angels of Mercy eventually lose control and start to, well…escalate."

"Which means wha—"

Scorpius went completely still next to her. "They start killing people whose injuries aren't as severe, which is safe to say that they've escalated to that point with Mrs. Shingleton. She would have eventually recovered."

"Yes." Henrietta looked grim. "And—"

"And then they start killing people who aren't even sick."

Rose put down her fork. "They didn't kill me, so that's a positive, yes?"

Henrietta frowned. "You were supposed to take the fall, Rose. They're under a lot of pressure with all the restrictions, I imagine. Your arrest was supposed to give them some freedom back so they can go back to being undetected."

"They're going to be angry when they find out their plan didn't work."

And the full weight of their words hit Rose all at once. "Oh, _wonderful_."

* * *

Her boss stuck her head into the room an hour later, just after Mum had just finished helping Rose into a change of clothes. She was currently tying Rose's shoes after a failed attempt had left her hovering just off the floor, thanks to a well-timed Hover Charm. Healer Brown looked more distracted and concerned than Rose had ever seen her. Mum looked surprised to see her old classmate, but overall pleased. The two exchanged polite – albeit stiff – smiles before Lavender gave Rose the medical onceover.

"I came as soon as I heard, are you okay?" She made Rose lift her arms over her head.

Rose nodded, putting her arms down and standing slowly after her mother finished. After being instructed to do so, she took a wobbly step that made her mum put her hands on her waist to help her balance. "I suddenly have colt legs, but overall I'm fine. I think I'm going to need a few days off."

"Sure. Take the week. Let me know if you need more time off." She said absently, looking Rose up and down critically. "How's your head? I nicked your chart."

"In case anyone has forgotten, my chart isn't public property," Rose pouted.

"Sure it isn't." Healer Brown smirked. "Besides the fact that you're a natural redhead—"

"The Weasley gene is strong in this one."

Her boss just stared blankly. "What?"

"Another person who has not seen Star Wars. Why is my life is so hard?"

Healer Brown just looked even more confused.

"It's best to ignore her when she gets like this, Lavender," her mum advised. "You're never going to really understand."

"I'll keep that in mind." Healer Brown still sounded a bit mystified, but she came out of it soon enough. "What I was trying to say before was that I am also surprised that you're actually on your feet after such a bad concussion, not to mention the fact that you were probably cursed."

"I've been better. I'll be a lot better once I get out of here. I like this hospital a lot more when I'm not a patient." Or being accused of murder.

"Understandable."

"My dad is settling my discharge and Scorpius is hunting down a wheelchair. We're going to my parents' house first and I refuse to be carried to the Floo. I have some dignity left. Not much after that sponge bath…" Rose glared at her mum, who wasn't the least bit sorry. "But enough."

"They're letting you go? They usually keep patients in your condition overnight. I would personally be more comfortable if you stayed until someone more qualified had the chance to clear you."

"Healer Sweeting did a proper assessment." Defending Henrietta left a bad taste in her mouth.

"She did, and she also mentioned some headaches in your chart."

"I'm taking the potions for pain."

"But have they figured out the root cause?"

"The concussion, most likely."

Lavender didn't look satisfied and she'd said as much, but added, "If she's cleared you, I won't argue. When are they taking you to the Ministry?" At the look of alarm on Rose's face, Healer Brown gestured to the door. "I ask because of the Aurors outside your door."

Rose visibly relaxed. "Oh, that. Well, I'll be going in the day after never. They're not investigating me. They're protecting me until I leave the building. I told Caldwell everything I remembered and the evidence backs up my story so I'm in the clear and I'm being released into my parents care."

Lavender looked like she had an infinite amount of questions left, but let it go. "Well, I'm glad that's all sorted." She checked her watch. "Well, if you need anything or need someone to talk to about your ordeal—"

"I have your mobile."

"Good." She nodded and clasped her hands together. "Well, there's someone who's been gagging to see you. Causing quite a ruckus, too." Healer Brown opened the door and gestured for the person standing outside to come in.

It was Bangs.

And she nearly took Rose off her feet with the force of her embrace.

"Oof!" she grunted, but hugged her back. More to maintain balance than anything else.

Okay maybe she was glad to see her.

"Al called me and told me what happened and I came right over." She meant that literally because she was still in her unicorn pyjamas and fuzzy slippers, bangs pulled back haphazardly with her reading glasses.

"You could've gotten dressed."

"Stop being prickly and keep hugging."

"You're doing enough for the both of us. More like suffocating." Rose fussed, but did what she asked.

Bangs pulled back sharply, wide-eyed and scared that she'd actually hurt her. "Sorry!" She squeaked, but did a pretty good job at keeping Rose off the floor.

"I'm fine. Just don't let go all the way. I'm a baby deer right now."

"You should probably sit." Lavender suggested.

Together they managed to get Rose over to the bed without any manhandling or carrying, which was a plus. Rose exhaled tiredly and Bangs sat next to her, legs swinging off the side of the bed.

"Are you okay?" She asked Rose. "Because you don't look fine. You look pale and I see bruises and a _sigh_ might actually knock you over. Not to mention the fact that there are Ministry officials practically guarding this room and the entire ward. And they wouldn't let me in to see you even though I told them that we're friends. We _are_ friends, right? And I saw Scorpius and he made them let me in and Healer Brown was coming to your room so I tagged along with her because he's finding you a wheelchair. And he said you're leaving?"

Whenever Bangs rattled on, Rose always stared and waited for her to stop. Her ability to vomit words was still unbelievable. What was more shocking was that Rose still managed to figure out what she was talking about. "Um. Yes and yes. I won't be around for a week, at the least."

Bangs looked ridiculously disappointed. "Oh."

"I'll phone you…tonight when I get settled." And hopefully had her sanity back.

Her mum cleared her throat pointedly and they both looked over. Rose rolled her eyes at the inquiring look on her mother's pleased face. Oh gods. She was literally _begging_ with her eyes to be introduced and Rose knew why.

Outside of family and Scorpius, Rose didn't have any real friends.

Acquaintances, sure, but no one she'd consider a friend.

_Well, until now_, Rose thought dazedly. Because huh. They really _were_ friends, weren't they? She certainly hadn't intended for that to happen. Rose had barely liked her when they'd first met, but Bangs kept coming around, finding her and talking, and just sort of worming her way in. And now she was someone Rose sought out while at work…and sometimes when she wasn't. She'd dragged Rose to a soap making class, got her to buy more organic foods, and she listened without complaint as Bangs rambled on and on about saving the world by recycling and saving the rainforest.

Which was, well, what friends did.

And Rose found that she didn't really mind.

"Jane, this is my mum. Mum, this is my friend, Jane."

Her mother barely contained her excitement. "It's _wonderful_ to meet you, Jane."

Bangs was star struck and babbling. "S-same to you, I'm honoured, really. You're…you're just great."

"And so are you, any friend of Rose's is great in my books."

The blonde just beamed widely and turned it on Rose. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me, too."

Lavender cleared her throat. "We should go, Jane, they only gave us five minutes."

Bangs nodded and hugged Rose again. "You'll ring me if you need anything, yes?"

She nodded and held on for another moment before pulling back. Bangs patted her head, got up, and left with Healer Brown. When the door closed, Rose looked at her mum, who was grinning. "Don't."

"Don't what? Oh, you mean don't mention that you have a_ friend_ you never told me about? I thought you didn't do friends. Isn't that what you told me after your Third Year?"

Rose just face-palmed.

"You ended up with your very own Luna, which is kind of adorable seeing as to how you spent the first eight years of your life barefoot, obsessed with vegetable jewellery, and trailing after her like a duckling whenever she was in town."

"_Mum_."

She laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. I actually like Jane."

There was a knock on the door and Scorpius poked his head in before either of them could answer. "Found a wheelchair and you're all set to go."

"Great! Let's blow this treacle tart stand!" Rose thoughtlessly hopped out of bed and ended up sprawled on the floor like a starfish. "Ow."

* * *

There was something different about Malfoy Manor every time Rose visited.

New drapes in the new drawing room, bookcases in the library, racks of aging wine from all over the world in the clean cellar, windows in the study and offices, moved all the paintings to a forbidden part of the house, chic French furniture in the sitting room, rugs in the parlour, paint in all the rooms, light fixtures in the upstairs halls, completely renovated dining room.

It was a poorly-kept secret that Scorpius' grandparents were just trying to figure out new ways to bury the bad memories, silence the ghosts, and make it a home again, which was a lost cause as far as Scorpius' dad was concerned. He'd given up on the saving the Manor years ago and bought a ridiculously posh but homey flat in central London right after his son had left for Hogwarts. It had an excellent view. And was Unplottable.

The latest change to the Manor was a resplendent chandelier in the foyer that fit seamlessly with the room they'd remodelled several years ago. Rose would've taken a moment to admire the soft cream and gold tones of the grand room, but she was too busy being carried like a sodding princess because her knees had decided to take a break right after they'd Apparated from her parents' house.

"You can put me down now, Scorpius."

He snorted. "So you can face plant again and scuff the marble floors in the process? I think not. My grandmother will have my head. The Valentine's day ball is in two days and her three conditions for us using the library are: don't make a mess, stay out the way, and don't embarrass her at the ball."

Rose's mouth fell open. "I have to attend? I did not agree to these terms!"

"You actually did, by proxy at least. Your parents agreed, Al, too."

"You all are dead to me."

"That doesn't change the fact that we're here."

"Bollocks! If we leave right now, they'll never know we were here, right?" At the doubtful look on Scorpius' face, Rose whinged. "You lied about your work schedule to avoid it. You can't _possibly_ want to go."

"_No one_ wants to go to this ball," a deep, familiar voice drawled from the balcony overlooking the foyer. They both looked up sharply to see Scorpius' dad start down the right staircase, holding a pair of crutches. He wore a sharp navy suit and looked as if he'd just left a business meeting. Which was likely the case as it wasn't even noon. He looked pleased to see them. "Son, Rose."

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, Mr Draco." It felt weird to call him that, but whenever she called him Mr Malfoy, he always bristled and said his father was elsewhere.

"I thought you were coming by Floo."

"We were, but Rose's legs made us change our travel plans."

"Ah. Granger mentioned that. I suppose that's what these are for." He made an abated gesture to the crutches. "Your cousin James owled these to me. I only just reversed the Shrinking Charm. The note said they were for a _Tiny Tim_, whatever that means."

Scorpius let out a loud laugh and Rose did her best to look put out, but joined him in the end. Draco just stared at them blankly, but by the time Rose explained the joke and got the hang of walking with crutches, he was smothering his amusement into his fist. She started glaring at him, too, but then he mentioned that he had a Fire call to make and lunch was waiting for them in the dining room, but that he would be joining them soon.

And, well, how could she be cross at someone who was feeding her?

"Walking is hard," she complained about halfway through the slow trek to food.

"You're doing much better on the crutches," Scorpius praised, but she caught the hint of sarcasm. "I've only had to catch you once since we left the foyer."

"My upper body strength is a lie."

"I'm sure Lily will have you lifting me in no time at all."

"Don't remind me. The lazy sod in me is in mourning."

Scorpius cackled.

"My armpits hurt."

"I could always carry you again," he suggested.

"No!" Rose exclaimed. "Between that, the sponge bath, falling on my mum's cat, who already hates me, and being laughed at by the parrot they're bird-sitting for Luna, I'm fresh out of self-respect. I didn't even know parrots could laugh." Rose said mournfully.

"It was more like a snicker."

"I hate you," but it was half-hearted because they'd made it to their destination.

Lunch, like every other meal she'd ever had at Malfoy Manor, was extravagant and Rose loved every moment of it. Chicken parmo, vegetable biryani (for Scorpius), roast beef, assorted vegetables (hopefully for Scorpius), roasted potatoes, vegetable and bean soup (also for Scorpius), and various cakes and pies for dessert. Meals at the Manor were heaven for Rose…too bad that Scorpius' entire family were usually also there, staring at her with varying degrees of disdain, like she wasn't even good enough to breathe their air. But not today.

Today, she fixed a plate, draped her legs across Scorpius' lap, and didn't worry a bit about table manners. It was refreshing They talked about unimportant things and the weight of the day seemed to lighten. Just for a bit. Rose had a few troubling thoughts and nearly choked on some false memories at one point, but overall, she ignored them.

They were halfway finished with Draco walked into the room, followed by Hugo, who was toting a messenger bag, a sketch pad, and a worried smile.

"Hugo!" Rose beamed.

He dropped everything and Rose had just enough time to wobble to her feet before being swallowed in a hug. There was really no better way to describe it. Hugo had always been trailing behind her in height until he turned thirteen and exploded. Now he was taller than her and mum, and almost as tall as dad, with his lean frame to boot. James had started calling him Huge, which he hated almost as much as he hated when Lily tried to dress him in clothes she deemed worthy. She heard Mr Draco ask Scorpius something and started fixing himself a plate, but then Hugo tucked his head into the crook of her neck and she focused back on him. Rose held on tighter, knowing he needed it.

While Rose was emotionally constipated, Hugo was…well, he was an anomaly in their family. He was quiet, shy around strangers, reserved around everyone else, a bit awkward, wicked intelligent, but at the same time, he wasn't allergic to emotions like Rose. When he was a kid, he would cry at the drop of a hat, sometimes for no reason other than needing to shed the tears. Rose had spent his entire First Year threatening anyone who had dared tease him for it. Deep down, she envied Hugo for his ability to vocalise his feelings freely. Rose kept nearly everything bottled up and buried in cement, and often wondered what it would be like if she didn't.

That day was coming, though. Not everything she'd buried was meant to stay hidden.

The thought alone made her stomach turn.

Hugo pulled away, eyeing her sceptically. "Mum said you were okay, are you?"

"Partially," she shrugged awkwardly. There was no point in being economically truthful to her brother. He knew her as well as Scorpius did, probably better. "I've been properly distracted from thinking about all the bad stuff, but I refuse to go to sleep until mum reverses the Memory Charm. Oh, and I'm still not good on my feet yet. Note the fact that I've been clinging to you."

"I just thought you missed me."

"Well, that, too. I suppose." She ruffled his red hair, which made him pull face. "Just getting in?"

Hugo nodded, fixing his hair back so his bangs were mere millimetres from his eyebrows, just how he liked it. Mum would probably comment on the fact that he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"You should eat."

Her brother pulled back completely and helped Rose back to her chair. He briefly hugged Scorpius next, filled his plate with food, and sat on the other side of her. Conversation was easy, likely because they talked about everything except what they all really wanted to discuss. Mr Draco talked about winning the highly sought after bid to head up the expansion of Diagon Alley, Scorpius recalled the night of the rave to Hugo who almost choked when he talked about Lily's shenanigans, Hugo filled them in about his Muggle art school and how much he liked Italy. Rose told them all about her mini-adventures with Bangs and ignored how surprised her brother looked when she called Jane her friend.

Mr Draco was the first to bring up the topic they all wanted to discuss.

"Now that we're done with the small talk, we have much to discuss."

"Merlin, I thought we'd never get to it!" Hugo blurted out, which was so uncharacteristic it made Rose's head jerk in his direction.

"I'm not sure what's left to discuss." Rose said.

"I beg to differ, actually." Draco patted his mouth with the napkin draped across his lap. "Why did you walk into that room?"

She froze, frowning. "No one has asked that before."

Scorpius' father smirked. "Which is why I asked."

"It's kind of a funny story…" And she told him about coming back to the fourth floor from Healer Brown's office and the detour, which had found her inexplicably lost. "It didn't make any sense. I know my way around, but I was wandering the halls for what felt like hours. I was confused, tired—I even got _hungry_. I kept seeing those three rooms. And when the lights went out, I saw a glowing light under the door. I knew I was in a ward by this point, but I went in anyway because there was nothing else I could do. And that's all I remember until I heard them find me."

Draco looked pensive for all of five seconds before he said, "Ah."

"Ah?" Scorpius chimed in. "And that means…"

"She was right. It was a ward. A ward that some consider dark magic because it lets you in and – for lack of a better term – buggers with your head. My guess is that you never really walked the halls at all; it just made you think you were. Your brain filled in the room numbers you saw, but I doubt you made it past room eight. You probably froze in place the moment you touched the wards."

"So the feeling that I'd been walking for hours—"

"The confusion, hunger, and feelings of despair and helplessness. It was the ward. I bet you were panicking, shaking, and on the verge of a meltdown, too, am I right?"

Rose nodded. "How do you know that?"

"It's a ward I've seen before," he answered simply, but added, "I'm not certain about the lights, however. St Mungo's lights have never gone out, as far as I've known."

"What about magic?" Hugo asked. "Could there be a spell so powerful that if used it makes the power fail? What about this dagger I have to sketch?"

"You'd have to ask a Magical Artefacts expert about the dagger and an Unspeakable about the magic. Unspeakables know a lot about different forms of magic, but good luck finding one willing to talk specifics." Draco took a sip from his water goblet. "They're a notoriously secretive bunch."

"Quincy's parents are Magical Archaeologists and he sometimes works at the Ministry as an expert in Magical Artefacts." Rose told him. "I know he'll help us."

Draco's eyes cut over to Scorpius, then back. "Invite him to the ball, then, and tell him to bring as many books about magical daggers as he can find." He paused, then. "Oh, and don't tell my mother that her social event has turned into a cover for an unofficial investigation. She likes the idea that we've all decided to come to the ball willingly."

She mock-saluted. "Consider my lips sealed."

"Mine too." Hugo chimed in.

Scorpius took a drink from his goblet. "James' girlfriend is an Unspeakable. She might help."

His father considered it. "She _might_ talk to Potter because he's head of the Auror Department and a Saint, as far as they're concerned, but I doubt she'll tell any of you anything." Draco sat his napkin down next to his half-empty plate and stood. "I'll Fire-call Potter to see if he can do it." He looked at Hugo and Rose. "You both should finish up and get started on the sketch. Your mother will be here in an hour or so. She's seeing about getting Caldwell off the case. Oh, and there's a sitting room upstairs for you to work in, Hugo."

"Thanks, Mr Draco," her brother smiled.

Scorpius wiped his mouth and stood as well. "I'll come with you, dad."

He nodded and they both left soon after. Rose watched them long enough to see Draco casually throw an arm over his son's shoulder. She smiled, but it faded when she caught her brother giving her a strange look. "What?"

"Nothing. Are you finished?"

Rose eyed him suspiciously because Hugo's 'nothing' always meant 'something', but she wasn't in the mood to pry so she let it go. They put down their napkins and found their way to the sitting room. The trip was better than the one to the dining room, in that she didn't wobble as much on her crutches. Or stumble. _Or fall_. Hugo got right to work, pulling out his sketch pad and pencils while Rose settled on the sofa, closed her eyes, and remembered…


	8. The Ringleader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But I won't hesitate_   
_But I won't hesitate_   
_No more, no more_   
_It cannot wait._   
_I'm yours._   
**I'm Yours-Jason Mraz**

**Chapter Eight: The Ringleader**

The clouds rolled in and the westward wind picked up.

It would rain soon.

Hugo worked quietly at a desk older than Scorpius' great-grandfather. It was too small for his six-foot-two frame, but Hugo sketched with no complaint, head bowed. Scorpius watched the drawing quill in his left hand dash back and forth with quick and buoyant movements for minutes. Then Hugo stilled and observed his sleeping sister.

Scorpius pointlessly glanced to see if she had woken.

Rose had finished describing the dagger almost an hour ago and shakenly gulped down a dose of fresh Dreamless Draught from his father's stock. It was far more potent than the standard potion provided at St. Mungo's. She was sleep in minutes; so motionless Scorpius had checked her breathing.

Hugo regarded Scorpius with an unreadable expression before he reached for his bag that was propped against the leg of the desk. "It needs colour." From the window, Scorpius saw him rifle through his bag, meticulously selecting what was needed. Hugo worked silently while Scorpius turned his attention back to the incoming storm.

The trees had begun to dance to the tune of the wind as a deep roll of thunder rumbled, rattling the shutters against the brick of the Manor. He welcomed the rain, exhaling a bit of the tension he'd been carrying all night and day. The rain had always calmed him and eased his anxiety. He almost forgot Hugo was there until he broke the silence.

"Have you slept?"

Hugo never asked a question he didn't know the answer to, so Scorpius was honest in a way he hadn't been all day. "No. There's a storm coming."

"Which is why you need all the rest you can get."

"I'm fine."

"There's a serial killer in St. Mungo's who knows my sister's face and mind. You say a storm is coming? I say that storm is already here."

It started to rain.

Soon the sounds of Hugo working were drowned out by the raindrops pounding against the window. Hugo was right. Scorpius saw the lightning in the distance moving towards them in a hurry, intensifying. The storm was here. He had been a spectator of the 'unexplained deaths' for months, mindlessly attending the security meetings and formulating his theories with no real way to test them. Rose had been there too, though she never spoke about it.

Not her circus, not her monkeys.

But now things were different. He could no longer be a bystander, suddenly finding himself on the stage with Rose as the ringleader. All because he couldn't tell her no; to go home with Quincy and wait. Scorpius wasn't so much guilt-ridden as he was scared as hell. The attack, the dagger, the murders. It was the beginning. This storm was bigger than them all.

"I froze." Scorpius confessed aloud. It brought no relief.

"When it's someone you care about, it's always different." Scorpius looked at Hugo, who was packing his supplies. He was finished. He said nothing, because really, what could he say? Hugo closed the flap on his bag. "I'm leaving after the ball. Mum wants me back in Italy until this is over."

That made sense.

Hugo picked up the parchment with both hands. "I've never seen anything like this."

Scorpius went to look.

He hadn't drawn just a picture of the dagger itself, but a graphic animation of Rose's planted memories. The dagger itself didn't look like any weapon Scorpius had ever seen – well, outside one of _many_ bad medieval movies Rose had tortured him with. This one looked _old_, for lack of a better word. The blade looked sharp enough to draw blood, obviously, but dull in lustre and appearance. The hilt was wood with what looked like animal skin on the dagger grip. Scorpius didn't know much about daggers, but this one looked normal. Until the stone on the pommel glowed red and the etchings and runes appeared on the blade. He studied the etchings closer, not recognising any the symbols, not even from Ancient Runes.

When the animated dagger plunged into the chest of the drawn victim, all the red from the pommel seemed to bleed into the blade, then the wound. A shock of red shot through their limbs and vanished just moments before their breathing stopped. Then the light reformed and was absorbed into the blade, through the hilt, and back into the pommel that glowed bolder. If he had blinked, Scorpius would have missed a portion red light sinking into the skin of the wielder. As if the dagger was sharing its power. The hand flexed.

Scorpius only watched the full animation once, before giving it back to Hugo to show their parents. "Have you seen anything like this?" Hugo asked.

"Not in any book I've ever read."

After checking on Rose, Scorpius followed Hugo to the sitting room where their fathers sat together in what looked to be an unpleasant silence. Scorpius surreptitiously looked around for scorch marks, but found none…much to his surprise. He wondered how long they'd been in the same room without wands being drawn.

It had to be a record.

The atmosphere was tense; at least on Ron's part, which was understandable given the situation and their location. To an extent, his Dad appeared content in the resplendent room, casually sipping tea in his favourite Chesterfield, reading the evening edition of _The Prophet_. Likely, he was rifling for stories on the deaths at St. Mungo's. Irritation flashed across his father's features when he cut his eyes over to Ron, who impatiently shook his leg and cracked his knuckles. Stress was contagious and communicable; his dad was not trying to catch it. He was about to say something – likely abrasive – when he spotted Scorpius and Hugo in the doorway.

"Finished?" Draco asked, folding the newspaper, placing it on the table next to his tea.

"Yes." Hugo answered.

Ron jolted like he'd been hit by a spell and approached them with the intention of seeing the painting. Hugo looked at Scorpius, who nodded. He wasn't sure what permission he was granting, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time.

"Is Rose sleep?"

Scorpius turned to his Dad. "She took the Dreamless Draught you gave her."

"Good. She should sleep the rest of the night. Granger can work in peace."

Hugo presented the parchment to his dad, who unfolded it and scrutinised the drawing. Ron stared at the parchment for so long that Draco came to have a look. Scorpius watched his face closely and saw his dad's eyes widened imperceptibly. That was interesting. There wasn't much that alarmed his father. He seemed to have seen everything and his mind had always been like a steel trap. But the look on his face told Scorpius he hadn't seen the dagger. Ever.

His father swore lowly.

It seemed to break the trance that Rose's dad was in. Ron sounded weary as he folded the parchment and returned it to his son. "Rosie is seeing herself do _this_?"

Hugo nodded, head down. The room was silent as everyone took their seats; Hugo on the sofa and Scorpius sinking into the other Chesterfield across the coffee table from his father. Ron went to make a Fire Call to Harry, who was busy gathering books from the list Hermione had provided. He then left the room, presumably to check on Rose. Hugo followed, leaving the parchment and his bag behind. Draco watched Scorpius the entire time.

"Have you taken tea?"

"Dad, I need something stronger than tea." Scorpius half-joked.

"That can be arranged."

A glass of whisky with two ice cubes popped into existence next to him. Scorpius blinked in surprise, but sent a silent 'thanks' to the house elves before downing the entire glass in one swallow.

"Don't tell your grandmother."

Scorpius smiled for the first time in hours. "I won't."

"She was expecting you for tea in the drawing room. Imagine her irritation when I told her that you were with Hugo and Rose."

"How suspicious is she?"

Draco resumed reading the evening paper. "About the purpose of our random visit?" Scorpius nodded. His father turned the page. "She has no idea why Potters and Weasleys are willingly converging on the Manor, but she won't question it. She's already published the guest list and made sure The Golden Trio's names were at the top. It'll be a damn circus, for sure. Prepare yourself."

Scorpius was not looking forward to it.

Over the years, Scorpius had been the star in article after article ranging from his net worth estimates to the witches deemed eligible to be his future bride. It was a long list. His grandmother's list was even longer. Scorpius wasn't a fan of the media, publicity, articles, interviews, or attention that came with being part of his family and social group. Scorpius was…well, he was…_Scorpius_; an ordinary, twenty-one-year-old, Level Two Intensive Care Unit Healer. He lived with his best friend in a decent flat in Hampstead and spent too much of his life coming home to find that his flatmate had eaten his dinner. He didn't think of Al as the son of The Famous Harry Potter or himself as the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune.

_Heir_.

The title meant very little to him, but meant everything to the public. His dad never pressured him, but no one could control his grandparents. Or his mother. Or the Wizarding World. Draco made sure Scorpius knew the full extent of their wealth, how to manage it, and how to curb his grandmother's spending. He occasionally attended board meetings at Father's company, only because Scorpius owned twenty-five percent of the shares and therefore, _had_ to attend. Draco had never forced or demanded that he fully embrace his role as heir, not to his company or the Malfoy fortune.

It would have been hypocritical of his father, after all.

His dad's multiple hobbies and career endeavours had been a source of contention in their family for _years_. Malfoys, as a rule, did not have careers. They lived on the interest of their wealth. It had diminished after paying reparations, but they were _far_ from destitute. Furthermore, they had charities and galas, rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful, and pursued influence in the Ministry. The latter hadn't been possible since the war, but his family believed Scorpius could return them to their former glory.

He wasn't interested.

His father never pushed.

"Will you take tea with your grandmother before you retire to your room?"

Scorpius sat the glass on the coffee table. It vanished a second later. "She likely wants to show me the book of eligible bachelorettes for me to study before the gala."

Draco picked up the paper again to continue skimming. "An exercise in futility."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll discuss it later."

Another hour passed before Hermione Floo'd in, hair wild and looking haggard. She had a handbag and was carrying three books on memory charms, looking supremely proud of herself. Draco stood up politely, but greeted her with a single word. "Granger."

Her response was an equally as dry, "Malfoy."

"Welcome to the Manor." He gestured around them with a cursory wave of his hand.

She did not look impressed. "This is the last place I want to be." Hermione sat her books on the table and picked up Hugo's almost forgotten drawing. "I hate it here."

"Likewise."

Scorpius, meanwhile, had been dozing – okay, sleeping – in his chair. Blearily, he looked around for Hugo and Ron. They were still with Rose. "Is this the dagger?" They both nodded as a cup of tea appeared on the table. Sugar appeared next.

Hermione's frown was as deep as the sea, but before she could launch into what was sure to be a diatribe about House Elf freedom, Dad cleared his throat. "You _do_ know they made us free all the House-elves after the war. They're here of their own free will."

Her eyes were still narrowed suspiciously. "Paid?"

"Handsomely." he gestured to the tea. "It's herbal. From my mother's collection." She relaxed further as she considered the tea. "You happen to like my mother." At her cocked brow, he added, "Sometimes."

Years had passed since the disdain and mistrust between their families faded.

Hermione's scepticism had to do with the venue, he was sure. No matter how much his grandmother renovated, the house told a story of pain and fear; the walls bore witness. Not just to Hermione's pain. Or Ron's. Or Harry's. His father told him that there wasn't enough paint and decor to cover the misery and death that he had seen. It had been the main motivator behind their move once his mother left.

Scorpius understood, and didn't. He had no experience with the true evil they'd seen. He was fine without ever knowing.

Rose and Al had been to Malfoy Manor, Hugo too, but their parents always declined. Unless there was a charity event. In the gardens. In fairness, his father had never been to the Burrow. Dinners with their combined families usually took place on neutral ground; at least once a year and always in private to keep it out the papers. There was already enough news about them. Scorpius knew his father had drinks with Harry once a month and despite their bickering, his father considered Hermione a friend, and not just because of everything she had done for Scorpius over the years.

Hermione sat on the sofa her husband and son had vacated. She added two spoons of sugar to her tea and used wandless magic to stir before tasting it slowly. "It's good." She unfolded the parchment after placing the teacup back on the saucer, asking him a question without even looking. "Scorpius, you look knackered. Have you slept?"

"A bit." He stood and stretched.

"Nineteen minutes." His dad specified.

"Thanks, dad." Scorpius rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome." He turned to address Hermione. "I gave Rose my Dreamless Draught. Your husband—"

"Ron's here?" Hermione looked around the room, particularly at the walls. "And there are no scorch marks?"

His father rolled his eyes as dramatically straightened the lapel of his robes. "Granger, we are civilised _adults_, not schoolboys."

Scorpius and Hermione exchanged looks, unconvinced.

"Civilised, _really_? Malfoy, remember when Ron tackled you at the Ministry's Charity Qudditch match last year?" Hermione took another drink from her teacup. His father had the good sense not to respond. "_The Prophet_ got a photo of you rubbing his face in the mud. It's framed in your office."

"And Dad, just last week, you call him a fu—"

Draco shot a dangerous look that made Scorpius bark out a laugh. Hermione joined in, while Draco looked put out. "That look used to provoke fear in many." The disbelief on Hermione's face made Scorpius laugh harder. In the end, his father cracked a small, good natured smile.

It felt good to laugh like everything was normal. But nothing was normal anymore.

Scorpius tried to smother the anxiety that threatened to return.

Draco stood, smoothing down his dark robes as Hermione smothered her laughter into her fist. She then cleared her throat and opened the folded parchment. "So, Ron is here, acting mature, I hope."

"He brought over a few items from Rose's flat that Lily forgot." Draco checked his gold watch. "And Hugo. They're both with Rose."

"Good," she turned to Scorpius, who put on a weak smile. "How is she?"

"A mess." He answered honestly. "She's asleep. Dreamless Draught. Dad made it."

Hermione nodded absently.

"She shouldn't wake until morning," his dad added. "You should be able to complete the reversal."

"Perfect. Can you—" The animation grabbed her attention. Scorpius watched her face bleed from one emotion to the next like the paints in a watercolour painting. He didn't know what she was thinking, but her breathing changed and she gripped the edges of the parchment enough for Scorpius to move from the chair to the sofa next to her. As Head of the MLE, Hermione Granger-Weasley rarely exhibited negative emotions in public. She was a war hero, the brilliant mind behind the Golden Trio's many successes against Voldemort in the war, and the brightest witch of her age. She was a capable and strong leader, a good mother, and people often praised her for being extremely personable. She would be the next Minister for Magic, for sure.

But she wasn't in public. And this was about her daughter.

Blindly, Hermione reached for her tea then decided against it. Her hands shook as she watched the animation repeatedly. "Well, this is worse than I thought."

Scorpius silently agreed.

Draco sat on the arm of his Chesterfield, face stoic. "Granger, the books on Magical Artefacts – particularly daggers – are already on the table in the library. I made a few calls to a few of my friends to see if they have any books on the subject in their libraries. I also contacted McGonagall and she offered up the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts to you."

"Thank you, Malfoy." Hermione finally tore her eyes from the animated parchment. "I mean it."

He shrugged. "I happen to like Rose. She's Slytherin, after all, so she's the best of your self-righteous lot."

Rose's mother smiled weakly. "Righteous?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Might not be the best word, considering you've broken every law short of the Statute of Secrecy. It's no wonder Rose was put into Slytherin."

Hermione didn't disagree. Rose was infamous for her ability to circumvent the rules.

Like mother, like daughter.

Scorpius wondered. "Why don't we ask the Goblins about the dagger?"

"No!" They both said simultaneously. At Scorpius' wide-eyed confusion, Hermione looked to Draco to explain their vehement objection.

"Well," his dad cleared his throat. "The goblins only tolerate me because I'm rich."

That was fair.

Scorpius looked at Hermione, who seemed a bit sheepish as she folded the parchment and rose to her feet, picking up her bag and books. "They don't tolerate me at all. Let's just sum it up to a bank heist, _millions_ of Galleons in property damage, and an albino dragon. Not to mention the—"

She didn't bother to finish; his dad was too busy smothering his laughter into his fist.

"They only accept my Galleons if my father-in-law deposits it." She cleared her throat and strolled to the doorway of the sitting room, looking back to ask, "Which room is Rose in again?"

* * *

The memory charm was more complicated than anticipated, but just as hastily done.

It took an hour of spellwork for Hermione to call in Healer Patel through the fire to assist. Before she arrived, Ron stepped out with a very worried Hugo to take him to visit the Potters' for dinner.

Ginny had made pot roast.

Healer Patil was the leading expert on Mind Healing, which had become tremendously popular after the war. She specialised in PTSD and mood disorders and written a few books on Memory Charms and their malfunctions. It had been required reading in Healing Academy. Healer Patel had a private practise in the Diagon Alley and walk-in privileges at St. Mungo's. Scorpius had only met her a few times, and that was when she had been trying to get him to join her practise right out of school. He'd turned her down to explore his options at the hospital. Henrietta didn't speak to him for a week.

Outside of calling him an idiot.

Scorpius found it interesting to watch the dynamic between the two witches.

He quickly gathered that they often called the other for anything unsavoury or complex. So much that Healer Patil came through the fire dressed in expensive robes and armed, ready for action.

"Not going to battle, Padma." Hermione intoned without looking up.

"I was on a _date_ arranged by my parents. You're lucky he was terribly dull." She looked around the guest room and her eyes fell on him. "Why are you—no. Don't answer that. The less I know, the better."

Hermione looked up from her work on Rose. "I need help reversing your favourite Slytherin's memory charm. It's a right mess and I can't do it alone."

"Damn it."

In the second hour, Healer Patel and Hermione carefully separated Rose's real and fake memories. Scorpius understood bits of their discussions and spells, made several minor inputs that seemed to impress Healer Patel, but remained silent otherwise. He was tasked with carefully extracting and bottling the false memory in little jars for Hermione's pensieve.

It was all he could handle in his exhaustion.

During the third hour, Hermione worked alone and with ease to reverse layer after layer of the charm, speaking only to comment on the rush job of the caster. Healer Patel looked on. "You're a waste at the MLE."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't start."

Scorpius just held on to Rose's hand.

She never stirred.

Hermione finished not long after and stepped aside to put all the bottles in her bag. Healer Patel stepped in to check Rose's vitals. Scorpius didn't argue when she checked his. "Your blood sugar is low. You should eat and go to sleep."

"You look a bit like your father in Sixth Year." Hermione told him.

He was certain that wasn't a compliment.

Healer Patil adjusted the covers on Rose. "Her vitals are fine, but she will have migraines for a few days. Keep an eye on her." Healer Patel snapped her fingers in Rose's face and gave an impressed low whistle. "How she slept through that, I'll never know."

"Malfoy's Dreamless Draught." Hermione answered, putting the last of the bottles in her bag. He heard the glasses chink together loudly as they fell over. They all froze. She put the bag down to look in. Before long, half her body was inside the bag and all Scorpius could hear was things falling and Hermione swearing darkly as she made adjustments.

"All good in there?" he asked carefully. Rose had almost fallen into her bag while digging for a bag of sour watermelons. Al had caught her by her untied shoelaces.

"Yes," came Hermione's muffled response. "Just had to move the plant samples Neville gave me for a case and some of the books."

"_Some_? You and your damn books," Healer Patel chuckled.

Hermione came out the bag, hair dishevelled as ever, and blew a piece out of her face. "We ran out of space at our house. Ron _refuses_ to move or expand my library into the kids' old rooms. I remind him constantly that they are not moving back home, but he refuses to listen."

Scorpius stifled a tired chuckle.

Patel also laughed as she examined the empty bottle of Dreamless Draught. "I'm not sure why Malfoy doesn't mass produce his potions. He could do a lot of good." She suddenly remembered Scorpius was in the room and looked rather sheepish, but he just yawned and waved her off.

It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. Whispers of his father's potions had made it to St. Mungo's long before he finished at the Academy. The department heads thought that Scorpius working there would change his father's mind about providing the recipes to his potions.

They'd thought wrong.

"Not bloody likely," Hermione snapped her bag shut. "His company secured the ten-year Diagon Alley expansion contract. Giving up his recipes wouldn't benefit him at all. Doing 'good' has never been Malfoy's objective."

Scorpius agreed, but said nothing. Father was a lot of things, but he rarely did anything that didn't benefit him or their family. _Strategic Altruism_.

Healer Patel made a noncommittal noise and sat the empty bottle down on the nightstand. "It was worth a try." She looked down at Rose. "Anything else you need before I Floo home to lie to my mum?"

Hermione smiled, but shook her head at her friend. "You already know."

"My lips are sealed. Besides, I love Rose."

She smiled. "Thanks again. Tell Pavarti I said hello."

Patel nodded and looked at him. "Oh, and Scorpius." She extended her hand for him to shake. He took it. "If you change your mind about Mind Healing, owl me. I would still love to have you."

"I will, thank you."

_He wouldn't._

Henrietta was going to kill him.

Healer Patel gave Rose a fond look and left quickly.

Hermione sagged into the chair next to the door, rubbing her temples. Scorpius leaned against the wall next to the bed, eyes shut, exhausted. He could sleep right there and would have had she not spoken. "Thank you, Scorpius." Before he could say he needed no thanks, she smiled. "You've always been there for her. You never give up on her even when she's being difficult, but—"

"I'm just—" Scorpius shrugged awkwardly. "Being a good friend."

The look she gave him was oddly probing, but much like the strange look she'd given him before they even knew Rose was missing. It was gone before he could file it away for further review. Then, there was a knock on the door that soon creaked open. Rose's dad stuck his head in first before he came fully into the room, hunched slightly. He went to Rose's bedside and sat next to his still daughter. He cupped her cheek with his large hand. "Did it work, 'Mione?"

She joined him at the bed, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Yes. She should wake in the morning."

Ron nearly sagged with relief. Scorpius awkwardly stepped back, not wanting to interrupt.

"Where's Hugo?"

"Said he was tired from the Portkey." He put his hand over Rose's. "He's asleep at home." He stared down at his eldest. "I've never seen her this—"

"Quiet?" Hermione smiled weakly when he nodded. "You know, I've secretly been waiting for her to start snoring."

"Or talking."

"Remember the time she was sleepwalking at the Burrow and tried to make herself a sandwich—"

"And destroyed the kitchen? Mum thought an animal had broken in and called The DMC. _Ma'am_," Ron mocked the officer's tone, "_There's a child gripping an entire loaf of bread under the sink_—"

Their shoulders shook with laughter. Scorpius even laughed to himself, but her parents soon fell silent as the weight of their current situation seemed to return. Her dad sighed, focused on Rose, and her mum rubbed his shoulders comfortingly, murmuring something into his ear that made him nod slowly.

Her parents had a bizarre relationship. Scorpius knew their story, everyone did, but he had been around long enough to know them as people. Unquestionably, they loved each other, but their personalities couldn't be more different. Her mother was bossy and a wild card, but strangely traditional when it came to the natural order of things. Graduate, find a career, start a family. Her father was laid back and fun, allowing them to figure out their own way. He wasn't as worried about Rose's restlessness and tendency for ennui as her mother. Her parents bickered far more than they showed affection, but maybe that was how marriage was supposed to be.

Scorpius wasn't sure.

His grandparents were like housemates, only showing affection when it suited them.

His parents' marriage stalled after they found out his mother's blood illness had cut her life expectancy in half. Scorpius was eight when his gentle and affectionate mother had become distant; no longer wanting to be a wife or mother to the Malfoy heir. She wanted to live while she was healthy enough and felt she couldn't be her own person in England. Divorce was out of the question, so they argued until Mother left for treatment in Italy. She didn't return until it was time to drop him off at the Hogwarts Express, and kept returning for each important event and Quidditch game.

As the rift between his parents grew, the arguments had shifted to Scorpius as they wanted different things for him. Mother wanted him to marry a suitable witch, go into Politics and work his way up the ladder to Minister—something Scorpius emphatically _did not want_.

Father just wanted him to be his own person.

The movement from Rose's bedside made Scorpius sit up straight.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked Scorpius as she grabbed her bag, prepared to leave. "You look deep in thought."

"I'm fine," Scorpius answered mechanically. "Just tired."

She nodded and stood, putting her bag over her shoulder. "Understandable. I need a hot shower, dinner, and sleep. I told Malfoy we'd be back for brunch." At that, Rose's dad made a face from where he stood in front of the fireplace. "Rose will be up by then." Hermione finished.

Ron looked incredibly confused. "We're leaving Rosie _here_?"

Hermione stared at him. "Yes," she answered tightly." They started what looked like a silent argument with their eyes. "Rose is fine where she is."

Her dad balked. "Is she? Dinner here is one thing—"

"She can't go back to her flat. She won't want to wake up at home or the Burrow. Or with Lily. The Manor, as much as I hate it here, it's safe." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the fireplace. "Besides, Scorpius will be here."

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. "Um?"

"'Mione, what's _that_ supposed to—"

"For _heaven's _s—Weasley Residence!"

Hermione pushed her husband into the fire and stepped in behind him. They left in a roar of flames.

* * *

After they left, Scorpius briefly considered going to the kitchen, but decided that he would eat tomorrow. He did not like walking the Manor at night. Malfoy Manor had always left him with mixed feelings. Scorpius had fond memories from his childhood here: running after the pampered peacocks with battle cries, helping his grandmother in the garden, swimming in the lake until his toes froze, flying on his broomstick with Dad cheering him on from the ground. Sometimes they flew together.

At the same time, the Manor was a reminder of the fights between his parents, the power struggles between both sides of his family, and the tension between him and his mother. He hadn't been back here in a little over a year, at least not for any significant length of time.

Scorpius was checking on Rose one last time when he heard a throat clear behind him.

He almost jumped, but calmly turned, only to find his dad standing behind him wearing pyjamas and holding a plate of food. Vegetable curry pies, to be specific. Scorpius eyed the plate suspiciously. "The house elves make curry?"

"No, Mini Potter brought it while Granger was working."

Scorpius huffed out a laugh as his dad sat the plate on the desk next to the door. Scorpius sat and started eating while his dad took the armchair. His dad said nothing as he ate. The first bite was heaven. So was the second. And so on. A glass of water appeared next to him and Scorpius drank for the first time in hours. His father waited until he was nearly finished before he gestured to the still form in the bed. "How's Rose?"

Scorpius drank more water before he answered. "We'll know better when she wakes, but they said the reversal was done successfully. Hermione had me extracting the altered memories for her pensieve to piece them together for clues."

Dad looked impressed, but not surprised. "Sounds like Granger has a plan, as always. Oh," He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a Dreamless Draught. "This is for you. Not as potent as Rose's, but just as effective. You never sleep when you're anxious."

Scorpius accepted the vial without argument.

They were silent.

The plate vanished.

Scorpius went to untuck Rose's arms from the covers because he knew she would get hot.

"Your mother and grandparents think this is a phase," his father said casually, elbow on the arm of his chair. "I happen to know better."

"What?"

Draco stared at him long and hard; the look, unreadable. He finally said, "She's the first Weasley to sleep in our family home in generations. If ever."

Not this again.

He took Scorpius' silence as permission to keep talking. "They think she's a phase and one day you'll finally come to your sense, hopefully with enough time to find someone suitable."

Scorpius was too brittle for this talk. "It's late and—" He made a frustrated noise when his father got comfortable. "Why are we having this conversation? I thought we agreed to never talk about this."

Draco shrugged, shifting his weight in the chair and crossing his legs. "I decided to overturn the decision on the grounds of being a good parent."

He finished his water. "I have it under control."

At that, he snorted pretentiously. "Do you now." He drawled. "I happened to see the look on your face at lunch when Rose mentioned her friend Quincy. The one coming the day after tomorrow. You're _jealous_."

Scorpius grimaced, knowing just how the cogs in his dad's head turned.

He had always a well-balanced child, not prone to dramatics like the rest of the men in his family—Father included (if his well-timed entrances and exits said anything). The histrionic bitterness that had momentarily crept up the back of his neck when Rose first mentioned Quincy at lunch was so uncharacteristic, he was embarrassed.

It had been the same feeling that snuck up on him when they'd arrived at the rave and returned when he spotted them on the dance floor together. With everything that had happened, he hadn't had a moment to process the night. Not that he wanted to. Unfortunately, Dad hadn't missed anything.

Logically, theoretically, and academically, Scorpius knew what it was.

_Jealousy_.

Just thinking the word made him cringe. It was patently ridiculous. Quincy wasn't the first wizard to show interest in Rose; he wouldn't be the last. She'd had many, _many_ boyfriends. He felt childish and that just wouldn't do. And yet…

Scorpius brushed his hair out his face. He'd pointedly forgotten all those feelings when he'd gotten the Patronus message from the Hospital. He couldn't afford to add that to the growing mountain of problems. There was a time and a place for everything, sentiments were a low priority. "Can we just—" At the pinched look on Scorpius' face, his dad almost looked sympathetic.

Almost.

"It was only noticeable to me because I've seen that pinched look a few times before – the most memorable being the time you wanted to be a house-elf."

"I was four and liked how they just vanished and reappeared all the—I am _not_ discussing this right now, dad." He grabbed the Dreamless Draught, prepared to make his escape to his bedroom.

"You're avoiding."

"It's not that," Scorpius kept his tone levelled. "There are more important matters. I'm sure you haven't forgotten the _murderer_ in the hospital or that Rose is being investigated."

"Details," his father drawled. "I just don't happen to see them lurking in the corner of this room, waiting for us to leave so they can finish what they started." His dad's eyes probed harder. Scorpius shifted, even more uncomfortable. "I would think after everything that's happened; you'd be _more_ willing to have this conversation."

"It's not necessary."

"Isn't it?" Dad tilted his head slightly to the side. "She's managed to catch the attention of someone who isn't afraid to kill with a weapon we know nothing about. Granger isn't stupid. She knows where this is headed, which is what she's prepping for. _You_ know how this is going to resolve itself."

Scorpius winced, hackles rising sharply. Oh,_ he knew._

It was the most logical conclusion, after all. He couldn't think because it made him sick to his stomach. There were so many variables to solve for and mysteries to unravel. They could bypass the predicted resolution if they moved quickly, focusing on one thing at a time. "Dad, I get this enough from Al. It has to wait."

"Mini Potter knows?" He looked wildly amused.

"There's nothing to know. Rose and I are friends. End of story."

"Is it?"

His father's tone frustrated him. "I'm an _adult_."

"And sometimes adults need fatherly advice." Draco's face sobered. "Here's mine: stop prioritising and strategizing. Ignore the logic and take a risk. I know you like cast-iron certainty, but in matters like this, you're never going to get it. Emotions very rarely ever work that way and Rose is already…unpredictable, at best."

Scorpius frowned thoughtfully. "I hear what you're saying, but I just can't. She's my be—"

"_Albus_ is your best friend—something his father and I find extremely ironic. Rose is, and has always been, something _entirely_ different. I've known it since Granger sent me that picture of you two huddled in front of the fire during your first trip to the Burrow."

He remembered that night. Al, James, and Lily were catching fireflies with their parents. Hugo was inside showing pictures to his dad and grandfather. Molly Weasley's singing could be heard from the open kitchen window. He and Rose were behind the Burrow, sitting on a blanket a safe distance from the open fire they all had been roasting marshmallows in not two hours before. Scorpius had been reading a book, enjoying the quiet, when he realised Rose had fallen asleep with her head resting in his lap.

Curiously, he set aside the book and peered down.

All he remembered was thinking about was how _red_ her hair looked in the fire light. Unconsciously, he ran experimental fingers through it once.

Twice.

Three times.

That was the shot Hermione had captured.

He hadn't even noticed her off to the side of the campfire, camera in hand.

Back when she'd given him a copy of the picture, he hadn't thought much of it and given it to his dad. He was twelve. He didn't understand complicated emotions. Now, Scorpius found himself wondering if that had been when she went from being Al's wild and unruly cousin to something much more.

_Different_.

Or was it at fourteen and dancing like lunatics on an Australian beach during high tide?

Or at fifteen when Rose refused to leave his side after he'd taken a bludger to the back during Ravenclaw's match against Hufflepuff?

A heavy silence fell between Scorpius and his father. Scorpius went to the window and stared into the darkness, eyes straining. The night seemed to constrict around him, until all he could hear was the sound of his dad's fingers tapping, the shush of Rose's breathing, and his own hammering heart.

Scorpius didn't like the feeling. As he'd told Al repeatedly, it was easier to ignore his emotions and go on as they had been. Scorpius liked what they had and wasn't willing to risk it. He had never been the type that allowed his feelings to rule out his good sense. And what Dad was suggesting was completely illogical. Rose was his best friend. He had upgraded her from 'friend' to 'best friend' the night he returned from Christmas dinner with his mother's family where they'd spent the entire evening planning his life, right down to what NEWTs he would take the following year.

Al was in Egypt, so he'd gone to Rose's house to hide. In the silence, he'd started talking, telling her more about his frustrations with his mother's family than he'd ever told Al.

When he finished, Rose moved to stand behind him, wrapping them both in her hideous dancing sloth blanket. Her arms were around him tightly as she hugged him close, her hair tickling his neck. Rose smelled like the sour watermelon candy she kept hidden from her mother. He shuffled closer to her and exhaled all the tension he'd been holding for hours.

It felt like hours before she fiercely said, _"No one can tell you who you are or who you will become."_

He'd turned after she spoke, taking in her quiet intensity on that cold porch. Rose stared back, her brown eyes and red hair seemed to shine in the near darkness. Scorpius absently shifted in her embrace, bringing his hand to her cheek as Rose pressed their foreheads together, closing her eyes, breathing with him. He remembered how hard his heart had pounded, his hands trembled. His mind went white hot as he stood at the edge of the abyss and—

Scorpius closed his eyes tight at the memory, exhaling sharply and resting his head against the cool glass. He was a damn fool if he thought that he could keep telling himself that what he felt that night – and every moment thereafter – was platonic. Furthermore, he was damn idiot if he thought he could keep it up forever. And yet, he said, "Dad, I can't."

"You can," Draco told him, sounding as confident as Scorpius felt rattled. He looked over his shoulder at his father, who said, "Time to gamble."

"And if I lose?"

His father grinned mysteriously. It was honestly unsettling. "You won't."

Scorpius chuckled wryly, attempting to swallow his nerves and panic. "I aspire to have your confidence." He turned his back fully to the window and pulled out his wand to check her vitals. "You're entirely too happy about this. It's not as if the timing has improved. I—"

"Right now, no. It's not. However, you're not ignoring it." Dad shot him a rather sardonic look. "I'm not thrilled about the possibility of being tied to the Weasleys any more than I already am, but she's the most interesting of the lot and, more importantly, it'll drive your mother positively _mad_."

They both laughed. Scorpius felt lightheaded and nauseated.

His dad stood to leave. "I'm going to make sure the library is ready for Hurricane Granger." And he was gone, just as quietly as he'd come.

Scorpius practised his breathing before he checked on Rose one last time. After noting her normal vitals and temperature, he started to go back to his room, but thought about his father had said. _Take a gamble._

Perhaps tomorrow.

Tonight, Scorpius was exhausted beyond comprehension. It was the kind of complete fatigue that tugged at his eyelids and leaned on his heart, unrelenting until he found peace that only sleep could provide. He stared at Rose thoughtfully, wondering just how she would react to waking up alone.

He already knew.

She would never let him hear the end of it.

Scorpius sighed and rubbed his face. He made short work of kicking off his shoes and lying on top of the covers next to her. She kicked in her sleep and her feet were always cold. Rose snuffed in her sleep when he draped an arm over her. Rolling onto his side for comfort, he adjusted his pillow with his free arm and took one, two, three restorative breaths as he processed the conversation with his dad.

Emotion had never dictated his actions.

If given too much credit, good or bad, emotions could exaggerate a situation. Emotional people tended to do things that were not in their best interest. _He knew this._ Understood it like he understood the concept of wand cores or genetics with respects to the probability of a Pureblood child being born a Squib.

And yet, here he was, on the cusp of doing something reckless.

But his father was right. Scorpius _had_ to do something. Maybe not now, but at some point, he would need to verbalise the emotions that filled him to the point of overflow. Before he broke. Before he drowned. Before he did something stupid.

He closed his eyes. He hated feeling that way. However, what Scorpius hated most of all was that, no matter how analytical he was or how he successfully rationalised his every action, emotions were always there, lurking. He couldn't justify them, hide them, or force them away. Emotions _demanded_ to be felt, recognised, and processed.

No matter how hard Scorpius tried to escape, he didn't.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

And as it turned out, Scorpius didn't need a potion. He fell right asleep.

* * *

Scorpius slept the sleep of the dead.

If he dreamed at all, he didn't remember.

In fragmented stages, he returned to a reality where he could hear the rain tapping against the window. The room was dark but warm enough to keep him relaxed and strangely content, despite being on the edge of the bed. Next to him, Rose—no longer still as death—monopolised the rest of the bed; snoring loud and long like an angry Hungarian Horntail with her back pressed against his front, blankets long gone. Scorpius could feel her cold feet through the fabric of his trousers.

Because he wasn't ready to move, Scorpius shifted closer to decrease the likelihood of her shoving him off the bed. Again. It was comforting in an odd sort of way, perhaps because it reassured him to know that, in some ways, things were still normal.

Scorpius stared at the back of her dishevelled head.

It seemed that during the night, a calm permeated his skin and bones, expelling the stress and agitation from the previous day. It was the sort of serenity that came with fortitude. He thought of the night he told the family of his post-Hogwarts plans. For Scorpius, that had been his first touch of freedom; of being his own person on his own journey. And though he had been afraid, mainly of failure, Scorpius had known he was doing the right thing. That moment for him had been epic, as immense and overwhelming as time and space.

The same feeling filled him again.

Sleep attempted to take Scorpius once more and would have succeeded had he not heard Rose's snoring cease. She was awake. She stretched, extending her arms and legs to their fullest as she murmured something too low for Scorpius to hear and shifted toward the centre of the bed. Scorpius moved as well, just from the edge. Rose rolled so they were face to face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked far paler than usual.

As a Healer, he had a hundred questions.

As a friend, he asked none.

Before he could move, Rose's hand found his and held it firmly, not grasping. Her eyes soon fluttered shut and her breathing evened. They were quiet together. Her quiet greatly contrasted his, which was contemplative and probing. Rose was comfortable in a way he hadn't seen since Hogwarts—or better yet, since she'd woken in tears from memories that weren't her own.

The reversal had been a success.

Scorpius exhaled the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and relaxed, shutting his eyes and listening to the rain; no lightning or thunder disturbed the calm between them.

"Waffles." The silence-destroying declaration was confident; as if she'd found a cure for Dragon Pox. "With a side of waffles."

Scorpius opened his eyes. Rose still looked serene. "What?"

"I'm thinking about breakfast. I'm _starving_."

"Hm," he intoned dryly. "I'm surprised there was no mention of sausages."

"It was implied."

Scorpius smiled. "Luckily for you, the Manor is hosting brunch."

Rose's eyes remained shut, but her nose scrunched with suspicion. "Hosting who?"

"A few people: Potters, your parents, Hugo—"

She shot up like a lightning bolt, stiffly scrambling into a seated position with her legs crossed, hair like a lion's mane. Her legs were still unsteady. "Back up, _my_ parents?"

He sat up a bit slower, scooting back to lean against the headboard. Scorpius had spied the uncomfortable look on her face from her quick actions and determined he'd have a look at her ankle. "Yes, _your_ parents." Scorpius glanced at his watch. It was after eleven in the morning; the storm clouds had made him think it was later. Still, brunch would start soon. "My father invited them yesterday when they were here."

"My dad was here?" Rose asked slowly. "With your dad? Alone?" When Scorpius nodded, she made a face that made him crack a wide grin. "So…how bad was the damage?"

"Surprisingly, there was none." She was unconvinced, for good reason. "Your dad was preoccupied with you being unconscious."

Rose smiled tranquilly like she'd remembered a good dream. "Your dad's Dreamless Draught is brilliant."

"I'll make sure to tell him," he replied. "How's your head?"

"'M fine." she yawned, scratching the back of her head. "No memories or—I feel like myself again. A bit of a headache, though, but Mum's a genius."

"She had help. Healer Patil."

Rose winced. "That bad?"

He nodded.

She chewed on her lip, looking rather sombre, "Have you seen it?"

It took a moment for him to realise what she was talking about. Scorpius nodded. "Your mum has the drawing. She's never seen it before, but took your memories with her for clues…" He trailed off with a shrug, not knowing what else to say.

Rose looked toward the window where the rain hadn't let up. Scorpius wondered what was on her mind; her mood had darkened like the clouds outside. Rose carefully drew her knees into her chest one at a time, looking smaller, younger; eyes glued to the swaying trees outside. He wondered if everything had caught up to her; if she was as overwhelmed as he'd felt yesterday.

Or maybe not.

The stiffness in her shoulders on anyone might have meant anxiety or agitation. And the way the corners of her mouth had turned down, on someone else, may have meant they were upset. But Rose was _thinking_—or trying to. After all, she was wound tight. At any given moment, Scorpius expected her to snap.

Scorpius left Rose to her thoughts, grabbing his wand. He opened the door, prepared to slip out, only to come face-to-face with Albus, who had his fist up, ready to knock. He was dressed properly in denims and a long-sleeved navy jumper, likely his sister's influence; he'd even managed to tame his hair.

"Um?" Slightly confused was Al's default face.

"Morning, Al."

"Mum sent me to wake Rose for brunch. Everyone is here. Actually, she sent Lily, but I knew that would only end with screaming and hexes."

That was true. Scorpius gestured to Rose, who hadn't moved. "She's thinking."

"Ah, how is she?"

"Physically? Back to normal. Mentally?" He shrugged. He didn't have an answer. As well and long as he'd known Rose, Scorpius had never been able to get a good read on her when she was like that. He never could when Rose guarded herself. "I hope there are waffles, for everyone's sake."

"I'll wait for her. You shower. Brunch starts in fifteen minutes." Al joined his cousin on the bed, not making any quick movements. He said something inaudible and Rose rested her head on Al's shoulder in a rare display of affection.

Al and Rose were extremely close and had been all their lives – only three months apart in age. By the time Scorpius had met them, they were finishing each other's sentences and having entire conversations with just a few pointed facial expressions. They had drifted apart slightly during the first two years of Hogwarts; simply because of their different houses and Al's massive popularity, which Rose never seemed to care for, but right before Third Year, they'd settled their differences and returned to being inseparable.

However, despite being close, neither were particularly affectionate with each other outside of forced hugs and photos at family events.

Come to think of it, none of the Potter and Weasley kids were. It likely had something to do with their family's 'hug it out' method of conflict resolution. When he'd visited the Burrow, it had been commonplace to see one, two, three—or one memorable time—_four _cousins and/or siblings in the living room, hugging with red and splotchy angry faces.

It was one of the reasons Scorpius was glad to be an only child.

Al scooted closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

Scorpius left them, venturing down the hall to his room where he showered, dressing in warm trousers and grey jumper Al's mum had bought him last Christmas. He dried his hair, not bothering to style it any better than usual, and summoned his glasses. Scorpius put on shoes and went downstairs to brunch.

Brunch was lively, full of conversation and banter, but tame in comparison to Sunday's at the Burrow. At the Burrow, meals were chaotic at best. Molly and Arthur had six living adult children who—sans Charlie—had spouses and children; some of the grandchildren had spouses and babies of their own.

Scorpius, being one of the few outsiders with a standing invitation, typically spent an inordinate amount of time watching from the only quiet corner in the room until Al would drag him into an argument with any given Weasley cousin. It felt strange to be huddled around the table without Molly Weasley fussing and Arthur Weasley showing off his Muggle collection of odds and ins. Strange without the little cousins—still too young for Hogwarts—running around.

Brunch at the Manor was just as loud, but orderly; with house-elves supplying the food and drinks without being seen. His grandparents weren't present; Grandmother was preparing for the Gala tomorrow and Grandfather was being fitted for new dress robes.

Without them, conversation flowed freely.

As the host, Dad sat at the head of the table with Harry and Hermione on both sides. He drank coffee while spying a nearby lardy cake; his sweet tooth was terrible. Potters and Weasleys were mixed around the rest of the table with Scorpius between Lily and Hugo. There were at least five conversations happening simultaneously while they ate.

Everything seemed normal.

His father, Harry, and Hermione were discussing everything from security for the to the best way to slip to the library without his grandmother's knowledge. Dad had provided blueprints of the Manor, much to Hermione's delight. Hugo and Ginny were chatting about art school; Hugo's ears pink with embarrassment as he didn't care much for talking about himself. James was trying to convince Al to take his girlfriend's flatmate to the Gala. Al refused. Ron was reading the morning Prophet for news on his old team, The Cannons. Lily was talking to Scorpius about dress for the Gala while Scorpius—well, he was passing water down to Rose so she wouldn't choke to death on the low carb waffle Lily was forcing her to eat.

No one discussed the massive elephant in the room. Which was fine.

"It's good, yes?" Lily asked her cousin hopefully.

Scorpius thought that was the stupidest question she'd ever asked.

Rose, after all, was waiting to argue. "I'd rather chew on rocks. In fact, I'm going to eat bacon and Lily, if you try to stop me, they will not find your body—"

"No threats at the table," Ron said, not looking up from _The Prophet_ he studied intensely.

It was a good rule; one of eight they'd established over the years.

Not to mention, the one most frequently broken.

Rose polished off three pieces of bacon in short order while Lily, now fully distracted from describing her dress, looked on in abject horror; James in amazement. "Want some sausages?" he asked, ready to pass the plate just to see how many Rose would eat before Lily snapped.

Lily swatted his hand. "Don't you _dare_, you miscreant." She pushed a plate of berries towards Rose. "Henrietta said you need to watch what you eat because of the potions." A valid point, but Scorpius refused to get involved so he sipped his coffee and cut a slice of spinach quiche.

"I have a list of places where Henrietta can go. The first one is _hell_."

"No cursing." Hermione said without missing a beat, pointing at something on the Blueprint that made his father nod.

"It's a place, so that invalidates the rule." Rose argued.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks.

"We'll allow it," Ginny looked at her niece. "This time."

Rose sulked and scowled at Lily, but ate the berries.

"I'm in charge of exercising your ankle and getting you into shape." Lily reminded her.

"I didn't agree to that last part!"

"It's part of your healing process." She waved her cousin off, looking scarily excited. It was almost electric. "I drafted a diet plan and six-week exercise regimen, well I _did_ ask Healer Hodgens for tips and advice. She's a Ravenclaw from Teddy's year. She told me that…"

Scorpius stopped listening.

He knew of the Healer, but their paths never crossed. Hodgens was a Physical Therapist that worked with bedridden patients in the Long-term care ward. There weren't enough potions on the market to stop their muscles from developing atrophy.

Rose groaned dramatically. "I'm going to die."

"_Do_ try to not die on the rugs," his dad dryly quipped. "They're older than England."

Harry almost choked on his juice. James _did_ choke.

Suddenly, Ron slammed his fist on the table and jumped out of his seat in celebration. Everyone looked at him with various degrees of bemusement; like he'd gone completely nutters. Ginny spilled her tea in surprise and Hugo helped quickly Vanish it away.

"We got Alan Cresswell!" He was a Seeker from America who was being heavily scouted by multiple European teams. The Cannons needed all the help they could get. Ron continued celebrating, giving Hermione a loud kiss on the cheek that made her roll her eyes, but smile to herself. "This is it! The year of the Cannons! I said it first!"

Everyone groaned loud, long, and dramatic. James pretended to fall out his chair.

Dad rolled his eyes.

"No Quidditch at the table." Lily and Ginny said simultaneously, then laughed.

Ron sat down with a long-suffering sigh and sulked so much like Rose, it was eerie. And hilarious. So much that Al swapped seats with Rose so the two could sulk together and share the last two pieces of bacon.

Like father, like daughter.

Scorpius finished and excused himself to Fire-call Henrietta. The hospital was quiet; no suspicious activities. That wasn't a surprise. He updated her on Rose's condition, but only after she asked. After all, Henrietta had been her Healer. From her tone, she still wasn't pleased with them both, but Scorpius hoped she would come to understand.

He doubted it. She was obstinate to the end.

After the call, Scorpius evaded his grandmother, who was finalising decorations in the ballroom. He thought about retreating to his bedroom for a much needed quiet, but found himself sitting on the veranda with a notebook and quill. During brunch, the rain clouds had dissipated, leaving the sun that dried everything just enough. Even with the sun out, it was cold enough to need a warming charm, or perhaps a jacket, but Scorpius didn't bother.

He had a problem to solve.

* * *

Scorpius preferred to think and reflect; to turn ideas over repeatedly in his head until he was certain of every angle, every edge, and every imperfection. He preferred difficult puzzles and problems, enjoying the feeling he got while working them out. He'd fold back layer after layer, dissecting every nuance, mentally noting each little detail. Scorpius enjoyed the flash of insight; the fleeting yet powerful glimpse of the deep, underlying structure of the puzzle itself.

His current puzzle was problematic as introduced an untested variable: feelings.

No matter how hard he worked, what angle he took; Scorpius could not solve it.

The fact that it was unsolvable made Scorpius realise that matters of the heart were not congruent with science. The heart was not a riddle to be solved. It was a muscle; given far too much responsibility in the realm of love. In the simplest of definitions, the heart pumped blood through the body, supplying oxygen and nutrients to the tissues.

The issue was the brain.

"What are you doing?"

Scorpius looked up from his notes at Albus. "Everything okay?" How long had he been standing there? Perhaps it was better left unknown. Al had on a coat and his hair had been forced into a hat.

"Fine, all things considered. Aunt Hermione is tearing through the library with your dad and my mum. Hugo left with James, Uncle Ron, and my dad. Rose is talking to Jane in the Floo. Lily's looking for you. I told her you were helping your grandmother with decorations."

That would keep her occupied. "Thanks."

Al shrugged as if he hadn't done Scorpius a favour. "Anytime, but you still didn't answer my question. What are you doing?"

Briefly, he considered lying, but thought better. Not because of some misguided sense of morality, but because Scorpius happened to be a horrible on-the-spot liar. "I sat down to work on using mathematical concepts and probability to predict the presence of particular emotions, but somehow I ended up at the heart is a muscle." He finished lamely.

Al's mouth moved as he tried repeat and process his answer, but Scorpius saw the exact moment the lights went out and Al gave up. "I'm only asking because I'm your best mate, but have you been in your dad's Elf-wine again? You know wine makes you—"

"No," Scorpius answered sharply. In large quantities, Elf-wine made him introspective to the point of self-destructive. He was getting a headache. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I happen to be listening to your ridiculous advice. Not now, of course, but at some point, in the future. Far in the future."

His best friend looked confused to the point of exasperation. "My ridiculous…" Then, it finally dawned on Al. He froze, his expression falling into astonished shock. "Bloody hell."

"That's exactly where I am: _hell_."

"What—wait, so were you trying to _calculate_ feelings?" Al asked incredulously. He probably would have laughed loudly had Scorpius not sat there, stone-faced. He only managed to smother his amusement a bit under his glare. "Mate, you know better than anyone that how you feel about Rose is not a mathematical unit."

Scorpius knew that, and—well, he wasn't trying to quantify _his_ feelings for her, but vice versa. That part he'd neglected to tell Albus because the ridicule would be far too great for his already fragile ego. It was inane, but Scorpius had to try to decipher it the same way he did everything else in hopes that he could solve the problem as he'd done before. In that moment, he wondered if this was the beginning of his fall from sanity, but when he looked down at the pages upon pages of notes he'd written, Scorpius realised he had long since fallen.

Al sat down next to him, awkwardly patting his shoulder twice to comfort him. "You're too damn logical; always thinking."

He wasn't lying. For hours, Scorpius had been weighing his options. What if this, what if that? If this, then that. What? Who? When? Where? Why? Deliberating and mulling over everything so much and so hard that his head hurt. He hadn't managed to accomplish anything.

"Get out of your own head, mate."

Scorpius chuckled ruefully, "I'll need a drink for that to be possible."

"Too much and you'll be an emotional wreck…and _not_ just the analytical wreck that you are now. I've never seen anyone treat love like an Arithmancy problem. Professor Vector would be impressed…or terrified, I can't decide."

Likely impressed. Vector recommended Scorpius to teach the subject once he retired.

Al mused on, "Usually, we tend to get drunk enough to blurt out our feelings and deal with the consequences later. Or we wait for her to first snog us silly."

Scorpius closed his notebook, placing his quill on top. Neither option sounded like the brightest idea. But wait. Scorpius narrowed his eyes at his best friend, "Who is this 'we'?"

Al opened his mouth to answer, but shut his mouth, thoughtfully pursing his lips. "I'm realising that the men in my family aren't the best role models, at least when it comes expressing themselves. My dad is—well, my _dad_. And Uncle Ron has the emotional range of a teaspoon, or at least what Aunt Hermione says."

That was an understatement.

"I have to ask," Al leaned back in his chair, picking at his cuticles. "Why now?"

Scorpius sighed. "It's a long story that involves curry pies, my dad's strategic skulking, and statistics."

His best friend cracked his knuckles, looking engaged. "This sounds like a two-snack story."

Scorpius shoved him in the arm as he laughed and rolled his eyes. "You just ate."

Al shrugged. "Details."

"Besides, it's not a long story. My dad caught me off guard, told me Rose wasn't my best friend, and that it was time to gamble."

Al whistled low and impressed. "I didn't expect that."

"I should have," Scorpius absently checked his watch, not really looking at the time, but rather trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He had never been good at verbally expressing himself, especially where emotions were concerned. Scorpius felt hot despite the cold weather and his head pounded on. "My dad has dramatic entrances and exits down perfectly. Not to mention, he framed the picture Hermione took of me and Rose ages ago and put it on my desk during Fourth Year. Now I realise that it was a message."

Al rubbed the back of his head. "So, he approves?"

Dad rarely acted without purpose; never overtly involving himself in Scorpius' love life. Not like he had last night and not nearly as direct. Rose wasn't the first witch to catch Scorpius' attention. From Third Year, when he'd gotten his first girlfriend, until a year ago when he'd broken up with the Cecilia Vane; Dad hadn't responded to any of them outside a well-timed 'hm' as if they were a particularly interesting flobberworm. He never objected, like Mother, or spoke ill about any of them. Dad was the only one to let him figure it out on his own; much like he had with everything else.

For some reason, his father broke tradition.

"I believe he…" Scorpius cleared his throat. "He's not excited, but he likes Rose, so he hasn't questioned my sanity."

"Not like you have, I'm sure." Al laughed and dodged Scorpius's half-hearted punch. "I've told you a million times to tell Rose, so let me bask in my victory."

Scorpius frowned. "Are you finished?"

"Just one question," his best friend still looked pleased with himself. Scorpius wanted to punch the smile off his face. "Any idea on how Rose feels about you?"

He should have confessed from the start because Al had figured it out anyway.

The unsolvable problem.


	9. Not Their Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes it feels like the side that I'm on_   
_Plays the toughest hand, holds the longest stand_   
_Sometimes it feels like I'm all that they've got_   
_It's so hard to know I'm not what they want_
> 
> _I'm not their hero_  
_But that doesn't mean that I wasn't brave_  
_I never walked the party line_  
_Doesn't mean that I was never afraid_  
**Not Your Hero: Tegan & Sara**

**Chapter Nine: Not Their Hero**

Rose was a woman on the brink. 

Of what?

The likely culprit was _insanity_. 

She couldn’t stop thinking, feeling, remembering; her scattered thoughts kept her awake long into the night. After finding Scorpius asleep with his face stuck to the pages of a book on symbiotic magic, Rose tried to find peace of mind on the veranda overlooking the Manor’s Garden. It was all very zen with the star-speckled sky, crescent moon, and the light nature sounds coming from the garden. She sat with her legs folded, hoping it would lull her to sleep, but she knew it wouldn’t.

Had it really happened?   
Had it been a nightmare? 

She _wished_. 

Once upon a time, Rose craved adventure. Her life wasn’t exciting, especially when her definition of excitement involved nearly being _murdered_ every year. Or petrified. Or cursed. Detentions in the Forbidden Forest. Ogres. Giants. Who could blame her with all the stories she’d grown up on? Despite the initial tizzy she caused by being the first Weasley ever sorted into Slytherin and the new recordholder for the longest hatstall, Hogwarts was rather dull.

When she’d graduated, Rose stepped out the protective bubble her parents had created and into the real world that cared _far_ too much about every move she made. It was too much. Too judgemental. Too invasive. How was she supposed to figure out the rest of her life at seventeen?

At eighteen?  
At twenty-one?

Being part of a famous and successful family wasn’t ideal. She craved a normal existence with normal friends and problems; where she was allowed to figure things out like a normal person. She wanted to live without wondering which action would end up in the paper and to be who she was with very little expectation. A life without the world’s criticism. 

At some point between feeling the Cruciatus curse for the first time and her argument with Henrietta, Rose realised that she could never live that way. That was a tough pill to swallow. Normality was an impossibility for her. Like eternal life or deciding not to breathe. It wasn’t possible. She would forever be the granddaughter, daughter, and niece of…_heroes_. She would forever be observed and scrutinized like a specimen. 

It was what it was. While Rose didn’t necessarily like it, she accepted it.

As far as she was concerned, that was enough growth and change for an entire lifetime. 

No need to rock the boat or delve any deeper. 

She was determined to maintain her status quo and not let her mind wander into uncharted territory. So, Rose preoccupied herself: she talked to Bangs in the fire and played exploding snap with Hugo. She circumvented Lily and Narcissa Malfoy; the latter wanted her help decorating for the Gala while the former threatened a shopping trip for dress robes. When her mind turned to deeper thoughts, Rose went to the library and spent _hours_ buried in books with Mum, Aunt Ginny, and Mr. Draco. Scorpius and Al joined right around the time she’d seen Hugo’s drawing of the dagger. She begged off for tea with Mr. Malfoy because she couldn’t _breathe_. 

Scorpius said that his grandfather had mellowed in his old age. 

Oh, he was horribly traditional and had many, _many_ opinions about Mr Draco’s business and Scorpius being a Healer, but at least he wasn’t as fanatical about blood purity. Right? 

He’d lost that war. 

Twice. 

Mr. Malfoy never said much to Rose, but _always_ spoke to her mum at length. Probably because he was still looking for the non-existent witch in Mum’s ancestry. Scorpius had found his detailed notes during Christmas break Fourth Year. There were too many arrows and names with lines through them for Scorpius to comprehend, but Rose understood it perfectly. 

Still, Rose figured it was safer to take tea with him than stare at Hugo’s drawing.

She realised her tactical error when Mr Malfoy shot her a very calculating look before he asked a few _very_ pointed questions about her fifteen-year life plan. 

“Miss Weasley.” He sounded like a pure aristocrat, with a more lyrical pitch to his voice. Rose’s eyebrow lifted in question. He took it as an indication that he could continue. “Pray tell, do you plan on joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

His tone put her on edge, but she kept her face and body language neutral, even unreadable. She knew better than to underestimate Mr Malfoy. They were both Slytherins. Not only that, but she had no idea the purpose behind his question, nor could she predict where the conversation would go. There always was a way to figure out everything one needed to know without asking directly. So, Rose replied to him like a chess game. “Not in any lifetime.” 

Checkmate. 

He nodded once in amusement and Rose thought was the end of it. Five minutes later, at the end of her first cup of tea, Mr Malfoy asked, “Do you have an investment portfolio?” 

She had an account at Gringotts that was set up by Grandpa Weasley, if that was what he meant. 

_It wasn’t._

Rose rubbed her temples slowly, trying to maintain her zen. Nothing worked. Without Dreamless Draught, her mind was running wild, screaming into the night._ She couldn’t sleep._

Worse than that, she felt naked in a way she hated. Rose could lie during the day, but couldn’t lie to the night. Nor could she continue to shake the feeling inside her. It rolled in like fog, cloaked in stealth. Without warning or announcement, Rose sensed it. And it refused to leave until it finished making her a bumbling mess of stress and anxiety. She closed her eyes, briefly, because all she could see was glowing red and it made her sick. 

“Crisp?” 

Swearing, Rose flailed so hard—and in all directions—she nearly slapped the intruder in the face. She was about to swear more, but stopped when she realised it was Hugo…and he looked as if he’d been sitting there a while. 

Hugo was quiet like that. Mum had said that Rose talked so much that by the time Hugo reached the age of speech milestones, he’d refused to speak. To their frustration, he looked to Rose to be his mouthpiece and she happily took the role. As they grew older—and Hugo taller—she’d stopped communicating for him. Not because he’d become particularly loquacious, but because for some reason, Rose could no longer speak the language of his mind. Hugo remembered everything, only came around for a purpose, and spoke when he truly wanted to be heard. 

His presence was no accident. 

Rose sighed, but accepted a handful of crisps for what they were: a conversation starter. 

They obviously hadn’t come from the kitchens. 

“James bought them for me earlier.” 

She ate one crisp after another until her hand was empty. “Get out of my head, Hugo.” Rose warned, unable to shake the stress and exhaustion from her tone. “It’s not safe.” 

“Is it ever?” He looked almost serene in the near darkness. His long, gangly legs were comfortably stretched out in front of him; unkempt red hair looked paler in the light on the veranda. He wore a snug jumper, but had on shorts because his legs were always hot. All was silent between them before he said, “Personal growth must be extremely distressing for you.” 

Her hackles instantly went up. Well, that was the game he was playing. She _despised_ when Hugo intruded on her thoughts like the unwelcomed guest he was. Rose clinched her fists and took several cleansing breaths before she answered, “Seems like you’ve been reading mum’s books again.” 

Hugo barked out a quick, sharp laugh. “No, but I find it interesting how—” _Bloody hell._ “—everything is in constant motion, even the objects that seem eternally fixed.” He popped another crisp into his mouth, crunching audibly. “Like you.” 

“I’m not…” Rose sighed to the sky as she tried to articulate. “Eternally fixed. I have changed…_fuck_.” 

She was right back in the uncharted waters.

Even before the ‘Meet and Duel’ with the St. Mungo’s Slasher, Rose had changed. _Grown_. Her flat had real furniture. She had no desire to quit her job. She made a difference as Lavender’s assistant and that alone kept her ennui at bay. Rose kept out of the news and trouble. Hell, she’d even made a friend. Her relationship with her mum had improved to the point where Rose no longer wanted to run screaming into the woods and live her life out as a hermit. 

With her brother munching away on crisps in her right ear, Rose admitted that she’d changed so naturally since starting at St. Mungo’s that she barely noticed. Obviously, self-improvement hadn’t killed her, so why bother avoiding change? Why stick with the status quo? Truthfully, she had rebelled so hard against everything for so long that defiance was all she knew.

The real lesson she’d learned in her moment of self-reflection was that she couldn’t fight change and win. It was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not. And that stung; to know she was forever sailing into new storms (or even new phases in life) not knowing just how different she would be on the other side.

Honestly, Rose didn’t _feel_ different even after acknowledging all the steps she’d made. She was the same person she’d always been: outwardly cynical, inwardly insecure, and constantly oscillating between cooperation and confrontation. She’d just lost her first fight, her confidence was shaken, and outside of describing the dagger to Hugo, Rose hadn’t decided who was going to be the captain of the ship: Old Rose or New Rose.

Hugo had been right, though. Personal development was the _worst_. 

“Up until…well, right now, any change you’ve made has largely been a trial and error process that you’ve never cared for.” Hugo shook the bag, seeming to be on the hunt for a crisp. He made a little noise as he retrieved what he’d been looking for: the perfect crisp. He held it up to his face, examining it closely. “Or it’s been forced on you by mum.” 

“Mum is the driving force in my life.” She was not happy about that, either. 

Hugo offered her the perfect crisp and Rose accepted it, popping it into her mouth and taking her mounting frustration out on it with aggressive chewing. “Sometimes mum does know best.” 

“I have several photos of us in her knitted creations that say otherwise.” 

He almost choked, coughing and sputtering until she took pity on him and whacked him on the back until he complained. “Jesus, Rose.” 

“I saved your life so now it’s your turn,” she said petulantly. “My only wish is that you make mum focus some of her endless energy on you.” 

Hugo guffawed before continuing lightly, “She won’t because I’ve never kept her up at night worrying about my future.”

“I never asked her to.” 

After he rubbed the back of his head, Hugo turned to her with serious blue eyes. Whatever he was about to say next was a trap. “I think she finds it hard to believe that someone who earned N.E.W.Ts in every subject they sat for hasn’t found their passion.” 

Rose didn’t take the bait. “Be that as it may, in under five months, I’ll win our bet and she won’t ever get to corner me with _Pea Soup for the Witch’s Soul_.” 

“You think you’re going to make it?” He didn’t sound very confident.

Which was fair, considering her track record.

“I am,” Rose exhaled, hoping she wouldn’t regret her honesty in the long run. Hugo remembered every conversation, every argument, and always waited until the perfect moment to make her pay for his memory. Maybe that time she’d have the last laugh. “Perhaps I’ll make it longer.” 

Hugo didn’t react outside of a small eyebrow lift. “Think you could make it through Healer Academy?” 

Rose shot him a look in return. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

“In your owls, you seemed pretty passionate about it.” 

“I said I enjoyed it,” she clarified, “My boss has a low level of tolerance for vanity and stupidity that I understand on a deep level.” 

That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “That’s it?” 

Rose just shrugged, refusing to give him a millimetre more. 

Hugo bumped his shoulder against hers gently. “Do you know why I study art?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me.” She yawned for dramatic effect.

And he ignored her. “Yes. I study art, not just because it enhances my observational skills and it’s the way we communicate our identities in a material way, but because it allows you to know how life was in the past and how humanity has evolved and changed. That’s my passion. I want to be a curator and exhibit art from periods of time people are too ashamed to revisit. I was expecting a longer answer from you about why you enjoy your work, but that didn’t happen, so I’ll simply ask: what are you passionate about?”

“Kebabs.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Waffles.” 

He shoulder-bumped her again. “Anything _not_ food related?” 

Rose opened her mouth to tell him to bugger off, but the words got stuck. The truth was that she interested in everything, liked _loads_ of things, loved a few, and was passionate about nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Twenty-one years old, and Rose had yet to find something—_anything_ that filled her with such…_intensity_ that she would sacrifice everything to succeed. Mum was reforming the Ministry from top to bottom. Dad had achieved all three of his childhood passions: he fought Death Eaters with Uncle Harry after the War, played professional Quidditch for the Cannons before Rose was born, and built an empire at Weasley Wizard Wheezes with Uncle George. Scorpius was set to rise in the ranks at the hospital, Al was on his way to stepping out of his father’s shadow in the Auror Department, Hugo had his art, and even Lily had her song writing—no matter how patently ridiculous. Hell, she was preparing to dive into the world of wizarding fashion.

But Rose—well, Rose spent _years_ hoping to be zapped by a lightning bolt one day and wake up caring about plight of woodland creatures everywhere or inventing technological advances to bring the Wizarding World out the Stone Age. Or something. But that hadn’t happened. Ethe end, Rose was fine with it because passion required a lot more commitment than she was willing to give.

Rose never answered her brother’s question and Hugo quietly let it go. Probably scheduling to bring it back up on another random day, under another random sky. Instead, Hugo scooted closer, pressing their sides together. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Rose tried to push him away. She wasn’t feeling particularly cuddly. But they called him ‘Huge’ for a reason. It was like trying to roll back a boulder so she stopped fighting him off. 

“You’ll figure it out.” He sounded so damn sure of himself that she looked at him directly. “I’m sure of it because you’re already becoming the person you were always meant to be.” 

“And that is…” 

“The protagonist in your own story.” 

Rose snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’d rather be dressed as a tree in the background.” 

“Too late,” Hugo took his arm back and went back for the bag of crisps. That time, Rose grabbed a handful before he could eat them all and ate them aggressively. “Consider this dagger matter your debut.” He ate some crisps and licked the salt from his fingers, rubbing them on his trousers. The action reminded Rose that no matter how strangely introspective Hugo could be, he was still a gross teenager. “Mum, dad, and Uncle Harry…they want you to be ready in a way they never were.” 

“You make it sound like I’m going to war.” 

“Aren’t you?” His voice took a serious edge that contrasted with the fact that he was about to stuff a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Things are going to get complicated, especially when you don’t get arrested for murder.” 

Ah. 

She’d forgotten about that part. _Again_. 

Honestly, that was the very last thing she wanted to think about. Rose was mentally drained from self-reflection, personal development, and their bloody conversation. The problem was Hugo—_again_—was right. She heard their words they didn’t speak; the worry they tried not to convey.

That afternoon, Uncle Harry had hugged her so tight she’d nearly thrown up on him again. He told her to come by in a few days to practise duelling when her ankle felt better. Mum worked with a manic frenzy Rose had never seen to find the dagger’s origin. Dad awkwardly tried to encourage her during their game of wizarding chess. Rose wondered if he’d turned to _Emotional Support for Dummies_ for tips. They were _coaching_ her, each in their own way, to help Rose play the role she had been meant to play since she’d stumbled into that bloody room and asked a damn _murderer_ if they wanted chocolate. 

The problem was that—despite her inspiring thoughts on personal growth and maturity—Rose was no hero. 

At best, she was the sidekick with redeeming qualities and excellent one-liners. 

_Hero_.

The job of a hero was to sacrifice everything, charge into battle, save the day, defeat the villain, right the wrong, or something like that. Nevertheless, Rose didn’t want the job. She didn’t have the credentials or the experience. Hell, she hadn’t even _interviewed_. Rose was far too egocentric for the sort of martyrdom required to be a hero. After all, she was the sort to slip out of trouble, not charge in with her wand at the ready. A hero’s fight was harder, the battles longer, the losses greater. She’d seen her family. May was the hardest month of the year. _Every year_. People were celebrating freedom while they mourned those they lost. Their battle wounds had never healed; only scabbed over in time.

Always visible, always fresh, and always ready to split open and bleed through everything. 

And though Rose didn’t know the outcome, whether the entire dagger debacle would amount to anything that required any sort of effort from her, she knew that she wasn’t the least bit prepared to take on that role. 

A quiet voice in her head whispered, _“You have to.”_

And damn if it wasn’t right.

Rose had always prided herself on her iron-clad sense of self-preservation; on not running into danger; on not showing her hand. Those qualities had never failed her. Seven years in Slytherin and there she was, about to go against very shred of instinct and do the stupidest thing she’d ever done since eating an entire carton of Puking Pastilles. 

Why?

Because deep down she knew it was the right thing to do.  
Because Jane was just as likely as Rose to enter that room.  
Because she couldn’t turn a blind eye.

Because…because she was the granddaughter, daughter, and niece of heroes.

Acceptance didn’t mean that it wasn’t the true source of her cresting anxiety or the real reason for her current bout with insomnia. Rose thought about lying awake in her bed, but knew it wasn’t good to brood alone. Enclosed in her thoughts, Rose allowed them to flow and build to a crescendo until they overpowered her apprehension and smothered every other negative emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. When that happened, when Rose was full, overflowing with resolution; the world righted itself. She wasn’t fine, but she would be. 

Self-pity was only acceptable in moderation and she’d had her dose. 

“Are you okay? You looked like you were having a stroke.” 

Rose cut her eyes to her brother. “Gods no, but feel free to give me some Gryffindor tips.” She shoved Hugo hard enough for his body to sway back and forth. Slightly. It was still like shoving a wall. Maybe she needed to work on her upper body strength if she was going to do all that hero work. 

“You know I was in Ravenclaw.” 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have any tips.” 

“Umm…” Hugo shrugged with open arms, “Well, I have one.” 

“Spill.” 

“How about you break every thousand-year-old school rule and at the last minute get awarded enough House Points to win The House Cup?” 

Rose glared at her now grinning brother. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not much help either.” 

There was a beat when they both stared at each other before dissolving into riotous laughter. They laughed until it faded into a companionable silence. Time continued to pass, as it did. Rose was unaware of how much. It could have been only seconds or mere minutes, Rose didn’t care. She scooted closer to her little brother, resting her head on his shoulder, remembering a time when they were in school and he’d done the same. He shifted enough to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. 

Rose took a breath. Then another. 

As much as he aggravated her, she would miss him when he returned to Italy, but dared not vocalise the thought. Like with any other emotion, she buried it so deep that it was inaccessible. It wasn’t in her nature to speak her heart. However, her mind? She spoke that all the damn time without any regard for consequences. And while she had a penchant for the dramatics, Rose wasn’t the emotional sort. Not to be confused with emotionless. .

Ever intuitive, Hugo touched their heads together gently. “I hate that I won’t be here.” 

“I actually agree about you going back—and you know how much I hate agreeing with mum. Don’t make me say that again.” She moaned in pain.

She felt his smile. “Mum’s always right.” 

“Her cereal bars say otherwise.” 

“Scorpius loves them.” Hugo remarked. 

Rose yawned. “Scorpius is not the standard that we use to gage normal.” 

“Pot meet kettle,” Hugo sounded rather pleased with himself. “I’ve always thought that was one of the reasons you two are close.” He paused for a beat. “That, and Al.” 

She pinched him on the arm, which made him laugh harder, but silently she confessed that he wasn’t _completely_ wrong. 

There were certain things Rose never thought about; things she accepted as fact. For example: her family. Rose never doubted that the ever-expanding Weasley clan would stop their busy lives and show up if she _truly_ needed them. She hardly ever acknowledged how important they were to her or considered a life without them because theywere_ always there_. Sometimes it was aggravating. They were loud, nosey, and intrusive. She never got a moment’s peace. But the chaos was comforting. Even with all the dagger business, deep down Rose knew she could be the hero because she had everyone standing with her. She was never truly alone. 

And that was how she thought of Scorpius, too. 

Rose smiled. “Al _did_ spend an entire month losing House points and punching everyone who called Scorpius a Death Eater, so I figured he must be worth not listening to dad over.” 

“Dad?” 

“Yeah, he told me to make sure I beat him in every subject, but that was long before they realised my lack of motiv—” 

“But wait,” Hugo cut her off. “You were _still_ top three in your Year.” 

“I test well.” 

“You could have been Head Girl.” 

“And give Henrietta another reason to hate me, no thanks.” Rose answered flippantly. “Besides, I doubt she would have kept her mouth shut after she realised that I’d lied to Auror Whatever-His-Name-Is.” 

Hugo hummed thoughtfully. “Did you ever figure out how she knew?” 

No, she didn’t, but Rose was waiting for the perfect moment to corner Henrietta. The very last thing she needed was someone—_who was not her mum_—that knew when she was lying. “All I know is that Scorpius walked in with the impeccable timing he’s known for and didn’t think twice before he defended me.”

“Why do you think that?”

It was a silly question. Scorpius had been defending her in his own reserved way since First Year when they stood in the sorting line with Al and, in a strange twist of fate, he went to Ravenclaw and she went to Slytherin. The entire Wizarding World lost their collective minds for two solid weeks. How did the daughter of two war heroes get sorted into the same House as The Dark Lord? The conspiracy theories were patently ridiculous and her parents (and uncle) had to issue statements saying how proud they were of her.

She expected Al and James to hover, but not Scorpius. After all, their only link at the time was Al. But he stayed, steadfast and unwavering. Even though they both were the subject of ridicule and bullying, at first. Even while Al was serving detention after detention for intervening.

Over time, she and Scorpius formed their own friendship that was different from the bond they shared with Al; a friendship that…had shifted an imperceptible amount as of late. Rose didn’t know what it meant…or if it meant anything at all. The truth was that Scorpius had seen her through a moment of uncharacteristic weakness. It should have made her feel awkward and uncomfortable around him because she’d sobbed all over him, but instead she felt _normal._

It was okay for him to know how bloodshot her eyes got when she cried, how she needed him to tether her to reality, how him defending her to Henrietta meant more than words. It was a _relief_ that she didn’t have to pretend to be so strong and unafraid; a relief to let her guard down just once. Perhaps the subtle shift in their balance had to do with Rose understanding that while they were arguing over her movies and whether cereal was soup, the bonds of their friendship had deepened, strengthened, tightened, and morphed into something new.

Maybe that was it. 

* * *

Blessed rain postponed Lily’s first rehab session, but there wasn’t enough rain to wash away the entire day. There were times when Rose knew the day was going to be horrid and never-ending and the upcoming hours were going to be a complete and utter _fright_. 

It had nothing to do with the conversation she’d had with Hugo. Or her own anxieties that had her cycling between agitation and resolution early into the morning. Or the Malfoy’s Charity Gala looming in the evening for she wasn’t the least bit prepared.

It was something that infiltrated the air. Something she could feel in her bones; a jittery form of existential dread. Rose had yet to be wrong. Those feelings always accounted for the some of the worst days. Rose had prepared for the other shoe to drop—well, not exactly. An hour into her post-breakfast kip, Satan—or rather, _Lily_—kicked open the guest room’s door with a battle cry.

She had a suitcase in her left hand and a crazed sort of manic look in her eyes.

An entire lifetime of Lily bursting into her room—or _bathroom_—without any regard for her privacy had prepared Rose for the intrusion. She opened one eye at the perfect moment when the door—from the sheer force of her kick—bounced off the doorstop and slammed shut in her cousin’s grinning face. There had been relatively few moments of true satisfaction in her life, and that was one of them. 

That was, until Lily threw open the door a second time. That time she had the good sense to step into the room, dragging all her rubbish in with her, before it slammed shut once again. “Morning sunshine!” 

Rose greeted her with a single-finger salute. 

“Ah, she’s awake and still a bi—” 

“Walk through Fiendfyre.” 

“Very cute.” Lily drawled as she unpacked the suitcase, pulling out everything from dress robes to makeup brushes “Has anyone told you lately that you’re mean?” 

Rose was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, but answered anyway. “Touché.” From the bed, she glared daggers at her cousin as Lily flitted around the room, whistling sunnily as she set up her makeshift workstation.

“I can feel your glare,” Lily stated as she contemplated between two identical makeup brushes. 

“Good,” Rose replied in a fake saccharine tone. “Just trying to make you vanish with the power of my mind.” 

“You’ve been trying to do that my entire life.” 

“And yet, here you are. Apparently, those survivor genes Mr Draco always talks about run true.” Lily took a slow, measured breath. Rose was used to that type of breath from her. She always did it when she was contemplating Rose’s murder. Or a strong hex for James. 

Rose covered her head with the covers, hoping the visit was over. “Goodbye!”

“But it’s makeover time!”

She sat straight up in bed, splotchy skin, hair like a living forest creature, one eye crusted shut. “What?” 

“We have seven hours to turn that,” she gestured wildly to Rose’s hair and—well, her entire being, “Into…something better than that.” 

Rose dropped her head into her hands and groaned loud and long. She was in hell and had a 16:1 chance of escaping Lily’s makeover extravaganza with her face intact. Which was manageable. She’d been in worse situations before. Recently, even.

But when Lily pulled out the eyelash curler with maniacal glee, the odds drastically changed. Suddenly Rose was the Seeker falling from four hundred metres after being thrown from a defective broom that somehow ended up in the Quidditch World Cup. Or whatever metaphor worked. 

Hell, she never bothered to learn Quidditch, much less play it. 

The point was that she wasn’t getting out alive. 

Lily was too focused on her task at hand to look Rose’s way. Or else she would have seen paling skin and mounting dread. Which would have made her happier. After all, Lily loved to see her squirm. She said it retaliation for their childhood, but Rose was there for that too, and felt _she_ had more of a reason to want reprisal. 

After all, Lily was…_Lily_. She was younger by almost two years, but had always been classically beautiful, well behaved, bright, bubbly, and indomitable to the point that it made Rose positively _sick_. 

When Rose was abrasive, their grandmum would say, _“Lily would never.”_ But when Lily showed signs of being just as short-tempered, she would say, _“Oh, she’s got that Weasley fire in her!”_ Rose knew Grandmum loved them equally and was fully invested in their happiness, but it wasn’t always at the same level.

Lily was her favourite. They all knew that.

Growing up with Lily was far more damaging than Rose ever cared to admit. 

As Rose’s eyes followed her cousin around the already great divide between them widened. Lily was in her element, rambling on about the beauty blenders Muggles were using and foundation colour and best methods of contouring and makeup palettes for each dress she’d packed in that suitcase and which would go best with Rose’s skin tone. And Rose—Rose was confused, blinking wildly. Not to mention completely _uninterested_. 

Finally, Lily regarded her with a puzzled expression. “You look a bit peaky, are you okay?” 

“I’m not sure,” she scratched her head. “I haven’t woken from this makeup tutorial nightmare.” 

“I’ve got just the thing to help.” And she smiled. Evilly. Rose groaned. 

Gods, Lily was going to be insufferable for the rest of the day. She lived for anything trendy and was regarded as a trendsetter; a style icon for modern professional witches. Song-writing aside, Lily was starting to get offers to pose for magazines and paid to wear clothes by up-and-coming stylists. Everything she wore ended up in Fashion section of the paper and stores always advertised similar items as ‘Inspired by Lily Potter’. She had a strong following at Hogwarts and an even stronger following with new graduates; they wanted to be as fashion forward as Lily. 

But not Rose.

She dressed the same: comfortable and practical, usually paired with trainers and a bare face. Up until recently, Lily had begged her to change her style—or better yet, _find_ _a style_. Rose hoped she’d given up, but that truly wasn’t in her nature.

Case in point.

“Are you getting up or are you going to be difficult?” Lily had had her coffee that morning. She was far too confident; as if she already knew the outcome of whatever battle they were about to fight. 

“I think you know the answer.” 

Her cousin smiled with too much teeth. 

Rose got out of the bed, both hands raised in surrender. 

“Odds of victory too low?” 

She shrugged. “My ankle wouldn’t survive the race to the door.” She’d already calculated it. 

“True,” Lily gestured to the chair at the foot of the bed. “Have a seat. Let’s get started.” 

First, Rose had to veto the magenta robes before she got any ideas. _Had to._

Second, she refused to wear red.

“But it’s Valentine’s day!” Lily argued. 

“I don’t care.” 

Lily loved Valentine’s day because it was like a second Christmas to her. To some, the holiday was a wonderful excuse to abuse the privilege of public affection, but for others—like Rose—the day was a ridiculous twenty-four mockery of what people thought love was about. What did she know about love? Nothing, but Rose knew the emotion was more than candy, flowers, and cheesy poetry; more than getting dressed up for a bloody gala and parading herself in front of the cameras for a night that no one would remember in ten years, even if it was for charity. 

“No magenta or red,” Lily sighed, poking out her lip. “What about peach? We could match!” 

“Looking like two freshly dead corpses, no thank you.” 

“What about rose…” Rose just glared daggers. Lily shuffled awkwardly. “That was a bad idea.” 

Regardless of Rose’s current predicament with the St. Mungo’s Slasher_—_okay, she was still working on the name—Lily had already made plans to attend the gala, as she had each year since leaving Hogwarts. It was the only thing anyone talked about after February first and it wouldn’t do for her brand to not be in attendance. The difference that year was that she’d helped with the planning with Narcissa Malfoy. 

The theme was _An_ _Enchanted Evening_…or something just as ridiculous. There would be music and wine and speeches and proper dancing. Rose was stressed just envisioning tripping over her dress robes or saying something wildly inappropriate, as she often did in public. It was the first Gala that Rose would attend willingly and the first Lily would attend alone.

“—Your date will love it.”

That got her attention. Rose suspiciously eyed her now-grinning cousin. “Date?” 

“Yes, date.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked. It’s just Quincy.” 

Her eyebrow shot up. “He’s here?” She’d only Owled him yesterday morning and hadn’t expected to hear from him until next week because he was on location. 

“He arrived about thirty minutes ago.” Lily told her absently, now eyeing purple robes that weren’t as hideous, but looked complicated. “Scorpius showed him to the library to give the books he found for your mum.” 

“Poor Quincy,” Rose shook her head, only imagining the current state of the Malfoy’s library. If the previous day said anything, it probably looked as if a hurricane had blown through. “He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.” 

“I’m sure he does.” Lily wiggled her brow suggestively.

Rose was confused until she realised that she hadn’t told her about the conversation they’d had before the rave. “We’re never going to date.” 

“You danced with him at the Rave!” her cousin argued and she just blinked in response. “I happen to know that he likes you.” 

“I know that too,” Rose watched Lily’s face as it morphed through several emotions until it landed on genuinely surprised. “We talked about it before the rave when you _gave him my address_.” Rose emphasised with a hot glare, then rolled her eyes after Lily had the decency to look chastened. “Still trying to figure out my appeal, but whatever.” 

“You didn’t give him a chance.”

“He’s not my type.”

“I’ve seen the sort of blokes you date. Do you even _have_ a type?”

“It’s not Quincy,” was the best answer she could come up with in a pinch.

Not only was it complicated, but Rose wasn’t the sort to have deep and meaningful conversations with Lily, of all people. The simple answer was that she dated out of curiosity, necessity, and mainly because when she didn’t family members—like Lily or her grandmum—got concerned about her being alone. The complicated answer was that each of her extremely short-lived relationships started and ended with her wondering if she was doing something wrong. Was she broken? She never _felt a thing_ for any of them. And what was she supposed to feel anyway?

Because she couldn’t say any of that, Rose asked, “If Quincy is coming with me, who are you going with?” 

Lily flushed a bit. “Scorpius.”

Rose blinked once. “Does he know?” 

“Not yet.” Lily preened. “Narcissa says he doesn’t usually take a date to this sort of thing.” 

She just nodded along, not listening and keeping her face carefully neutral. More than anything, Rose needed out of that hell so the knock on the door came at a perfect time. She didn’t ask who it was before she crossed the room and swung open the door. She was almost relieved by the sight of her mum who was holding a silk dress bag. She didn’t look like she’d been up late in the Malfoy’s library. In fact, she looked rather nice, casually dressed, but her hair had been styled in preparation for the Gala. On top of that, her mum was smiling and not looking worried. So, Rose took a chance, stepping aside to let her into the room.

Besides, her mum was far better company than Lily, even with her self-help books.

“Mum.” Rose greeted, hugging her after she carefully laid the dress bag on the bed.

“Love,” she greeted with a kiss on the temple. “How are you feeling? Any headaches?”

“Except Lily, no.”

“Oi!”

Her mum chucked, crossing the room to her cousin, greeting Lily with a hug as her eyes raked over the makeup products. “I see you managed to coax her out of bed.”

Lily had the gall to act like she hadn’t burst in the room. “It was _so_ hard.”

Rose and her mum exchanged looks; one was amused, the other was not. “Well,” her mum clasped her hands together. “I can take over from here.”

Her disappointment was obvious. “But—”

She bit her jaw to keep the glee at bay.

“Narcissa’s looking for you.” Mum interjected, putting her arms around Lily’s shoulder and guiding her to the door. “I believe she wants to have tea with you.”

At that, Lily lit up. “Really?” Then she hesitated and looked over her shoulder at Rose, who kept her face carefully closed. “Oh, but I’m helping Rose.”

Her mum turned on the tone she used on dad when she was trying to get him to leave the house before the owls showed up with the new books she wasn’t supposed to buy. “I’ll get her together. It’ll be fine. Go on, sweetheart.”

“Fine, but she has to wear her natural hair colour. No more of this _brown_,” she hissed as if it were a curse word. Lily was a proud redhead and thought Rose darkening her copper tresses was blasphemy of the highest order. 

Rose much preferred her anonymity to being outed as a Weasley because of the colour of her hair. She hadn’t left the red family completely. Auburn worked for her pale skin and vital need for privacy. 

“It’s auburn, you miscreant!” Rose shot back because she couldn’t help herself. Mum cut her eyes in such a way that clearly meant ‘cease and desist’. “It’s time for me to change the colour anyway so I’ll allow it.” At least for the night. But it was enough for Lily to walk out the door victoriously. Her mum shut the door behind her and set up several wards. Rose threw herself onto the bed, relieved. “I thought she would _never_ leave.”

Mum put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t make anything better by arguing over hair colour.”

Rose was unapologetic as always. “I had a point to make.”

Her mum laughed. She walked towards Rose, picking up the dress bag gently and unzipping it slowly, revealing simple yet beautiful dark turquoise floor length dress robes. Absently, Rose reached out and touched the bottom. The material felt light, but sturdy. It had a slight shimmer that wasn’t an eyesore. The top was slightly more complicated because the fit and the bit of ruching at the stomach. It had a high beaded neck and the back was cut out almost entirely. It was a bit dramatic for Rose’s taste, but the bottom of the dress fell straight and would allow her to move with ease. There were no frills, no ruffles, no bows, and no itchy lace.

Rose liked it very much. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s mine,” Mum laid the dress carefully on the bed. “I wore it at the first victory ball. Your dad and I had a huge row over something silly the week before and broke up. So, Ginny and I went shopping and I found this dress. It was a bit outside my comfort zone, but I was angry, thought I had a point to prove, and I wore it. Your dad said that when he saw me everything slotted into place and he realised he would regret it if he let another ball to go by without having a chance to dance with me. So, he got over himself and asked me to dance.” Her mum smiled at the memory. “I thought you’d like it better than anything Lily would pick and—”

“I love it, mum. Thanks.”

“I met your friend, Quincy.” Her mum mentioned as she produced a pair of flat slippers from her beaded bag. “He’s—”

“A friend…or something.”

Her mum nodded. “I suppose you won’t be disappointed if he takes Lily to the Gala.”

“But Lily said she was going with Scorpius.” Not that Rose cared, but Lily was so annoying when she was disappointed. 

“And I’d rather Scorpius take you.” That meant her cousin had been overruled. “At least knows how you are around cameras.”

Rose shrugged. “You swear once at the age of seven because some idiot will _not stop_ snapping pictures and _no one_ lets you forget.”

Mum chuckled. “I know the flashbulbs make you anxious.”

She neither confirmed or denied it. Rose’s mother smiled, resting both hands on Rose’s shoulders as she stepped closer to her. She started to say something, but didn’t. Instead, she brushed a piece of Rose’s messy hair from her face. “Try to have some fun tonight. I know it’s very last place you want to be, but you’ve been through a lot in the last few days.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I know, but we’re going to figure this out.”

Frankly, she didn’t know what to say. The transition from smiling to being serious was disconcerting. “Mum…I…is there something I need to know?”

“We’ll talk later.”

“That doesn’t sound ominous, at all.”

Her mother sighed, probably because she knew Rose wouldn’t let it go. “Caldwell is trying to force orders for you to be brought into the Ministry for a second interview.”

“You mean interrogation.”

Mum had a pinched look on her face which meant she didn’t like it the least bit. “Yes.”

Rose had quietly hoped that Caldwell would let it go, but he’d been so sure she was guilty. Fortunately, now that she had her memories, she could prepare and perform a lot better this time around. “It’s fine. Let them. Al told me they have nothing, except clear evidence of a third person in the room. I’m curious to find out why he’s trying so hard to make me guilty.”

“It—I’m about to be appointed Minister of Magic,” her mum blurted out.

Rose nearly choked. “Bloody hell, mum! You’re kidding!” It was one thing to be in a family of heroes, but a completely different thing to be the daughter of the Minister of Magic. She wanted to wax poetic about how her life was about to change yet again, but the thought felt hollow. Despite their somewhat complicated relationship, Rose was proud of her mum. It was her dream come true; what she’d worked so hard for since the age of seventeen. As Minister, she would be able to make _real_ change.

And she wouldn’t have the time to worry about Rose’s lack of direction. So, bonus for everyone.

“Minister Shacklebolt is announcing his retirement and my appointment at the Victory ball in May.”

All she could think was that everything about Cauldwell made sense; why he relentless in his attempt to prove her non-existent guilt. If he managed to get Rose in front of the Wizengamot, it would be made public and her mum’s position as the next Minister would be in jeopardy before she could show just how well she could do the job. It was a new age, but old prejudices ran deep. There were people out there who didn’t like her mother because of her blood status and progressive ideas for reform. Caldwell appeared to be the sort that would be resistant to change and had no problem arresting Rose up on trumped up charges to stop her mum’s appointment. 

Her head was swimming. “Does Hugo know?”

She shook her head, “Not yet. I’ve only told your dad and Ginny. Harry knows because he’s a department head and a private memo went out earlier this week with the announcement and a charm to ensure secrecy. You can tell Scorpius and Al, but I’m going to tell everyone else when it gets closer to time.” Rose must have still looked stunned because her mum hugged her again. She held on tight and they held on tight to each other. Mum patted her hair down gently, speaking softly. “I know this is a lot to take in on top of everything else, but we’ll work through it. We’ll figure out this dagger.”

“_I’ll_ figure out the dagger, mum.” Rose surprised even herself with that declaration, but it made the most sense. She pulled away from her mother. “We don’t know how this is going to go and it’s Ministry business. You can’t be involved. Not even in secret.” 

Her mum ruefully nodded as if she knew that all along. “Start with my notes and keep your friends close.”

Rose blinked at the rather cryptic advice. “Um. Okay.”

Before her mind started racing, her mum kissed her on her forehead. “Go get showered. I brought cookies.” She jerked her head to her beaded bag sitting on the bed.

Their previous conversation aside, Rose was instantly suspicious. “Who are you and what have you done with my _real_ mum who didn’t allow sweets until we went to Hogwarts?”

Mum rolled her eyes. “Oh, she’s still here and worried about the state of your teeth, but I want cookies. So, hurry up.”

Rose was not about to turn down cookies so off she went, hurrying to the loo. Luckily, she’d grown up with her dad and knew the best ways to shower and get ready in three minutes flat. She even used the potions to revert her hair back to its natural colour. When she exited the loo in fresh clothes, towel drying her hair, her mum was sitting on the bed, legs folded with a plate of cookies next to her. Rose tentatively ate one just to confirm that they were real and not sugar-free. But they were real, moist, and delicious. “Are these I’m-sorry-my-promotion-is-about-to-further-complicate-your-life cookies?”

Her mum laughed and picked up a cookie. “If they are, am I forgiven?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” And she took a bite.

* * *

There was a floor-length mirror in the sitting room that caught her attention. Rose looked at herself for the first time, taking in everything.

Rose acknowledged that she looked…well, not like herself.

Turning sideways, she kept her eyes trained on the mirror. Her mum’s dress robes fit perfectly, but she had to hem the bottom with magic, as Rose was a bit shorter. Her mum had managed to coax her now copper hair into a sophisticated braided updo with a piece artfully spiralled next to her ear. It had only taken an hour, an entire container of Sleekeazy’s, multiple combs, brushes (two that tragically didn’t make it),_ sheer_ determination on her mum’s part, and thousands of swear words between the two of them.

They argued about makeup, but Rose knew that without it she would look like she had a disease. So, she relented, and was quietly pleased with the natural look her mum had given her. Nothing like what Lily had planned with all her talk of contouring and bold colours.

All in all, she didn’t look awful. Maybe _nice_ or even pretty.

There was something about being dressed up that made Rose feel dainty and demure. It was not something she was known for or enjoyed. 

“You look _stunning_,” a strangely familiar voice said. 

Startled, Rose cut her eyes over to the awe-struck Quincy, who stood in the doorway of the drawing room. She had to blink twice. While she’d given him the ‘let’s be friends’ talk, she wasn’t _blind_. The man was attractive in an unattainable sort of way, which strangely clashed with his easy-going personality. Same dark hair, same blue eyes, same stupid hair, but he looked ready to step in front of the cameras at one of his modelling gigs. For the occasion, Quincy was dressed in navy robes and a white bowtie. He wore white gloves that were likely intended to make him look sophisticated, but made him look pretentious as hell. 

“Hiya,” she said, unsure of how to react to his stare. 

“Wow, Rose. You look—” 

“Bloody hell,” She blurted out, twisting awkwardly. “Can we move on before I get a complex?” 

Quincy cleared his throat. “I’m not quite used to the red, but it suits you.”

“Because it’s my natural hair colour.” Rose deadpanned. “_Stop staring_.”

He looked away, then down.

Oh, right. She almost forgot: “Lily told me that you’d come. I thought it’d be later. I’d only just owled you—” 

He came further into the room, casually plucking a book from the shelf and reading the cover before lazily flipping through the pages. “Your mum’s owl reached me about the same time as yours and she told me about what happened. I figured it was an emergency if Hermione Granger asked for my assistance. She arranged for a Portkey and I stopped long enough to grab every book I had on magical daggers before I came here. They were wrapping things up to prepare for the Gala when I arrived.” 

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “How did my mum know—” 

Quincy smirked. “Pretty certain she makes it her business to know everything, especially when it concerns you.” 

The story of her life.

“Are you okay?” He regarded her with a raised brow. “Your mum didn’t go into detail—” 

“I’m fine now that I won’t be shipped to Azkaban anytime soon.” She’d figure out her course of action on Cauldwell later. 

“That sounds ominous.”

She shrugged, and glanced over her shoulder out the window. The sun was starting to set. “It’s complicated.”

“I gathered. A dagger and a cloaked figure?”

Rose looked back at him. “Yes, and an Auror who wants to use me to cause chaos. My life is the plot to a mystery novel. This is fun.”

Book in hand, Quincy sat on the sofa and regarded her with a look she couldn’t quite recognise. “Is it?” 

She refused to dignify that with a response. She’d already promised herself to combat her main problems tomorrow. No need to get a head start. Rose changed the subject. “I hear you’re escorting Lily tonight. If that’s so, you’ll need to burn those gloves. Only old, rich Purebloods wear them…so they won’t catch poverty.”

He laughed, but removed the gloves, stuffing them into his pockets. He started to say something, but heard approaching footstep and looked over his shoulder at the doorway. Rose looked as well, but she knew who it was. Only one person walked like that: careful and controlled, but with a purpose. Scorpius appeared in the doorway, eyes locking onto Quincy first. “Have you seen—” Then he saw her standing in front of the window. “Rose.” 

“Yes?” 

A strange silence filled the room that grew heavier as it extended. Rose cut her eyes over to Quincy, who was pretending to read—the book was upside down. The sodding idiot.

When Rose looked back to Scorpius, she found that he was standing a little straighter in the doorway, but still hadn’t entered the room. His face remained perfectly expressionless as he assessed her and it honestly unnerved her. For a moment, it took her back to last night when she felt raw and exposed and she honestly wondered if he’d felt the shift, too. Rose awkwardly bit her lip, looking from side to side, then down at her shoes. She wanted to make eye-contact with him; to stare him down until he felt just as strange as she did.

But his eyes were too…_something_. It was hard to explain.

She awkwardly hugged herself around the waist and stepped back, bumping slightly into the windowsill. The movement jostled her enough to make Rose look at him. She attempted to get his attention a second time. “What is wrong with you? You’re studying me like a serial killer about to attack.”

Scorpius looked every bit of the Malfoy Heir he was in tailored black robes with a white bowtie and fashionable dress shoes, but the red rose fastened to his lapel was different. Malfoy men never wore much colour to events, least of all red. His blond hair was parted and artfully slicked back—likely by a professional since he never bothered with such vanity. The only thing stopping him from looking like a carbon copy of his father were his blue eyes and his glasses.

Currently, they were crooked and teetering on the end of his nose. He fixed them quickly.

On the third attempt she made sure to sound as exasperated as she felt. “Do. You. _Need_. Something?” 

Finally, his brain zapped back to life. “Oh, I was just…” his eyes shifted back and forth between Rose and Quincy. “Was I interrupting?”

Rose shook her head at the same time Quincy said, “Not at all, but your staring is awkward as hell.”

Which was true.

He didn’t look the least bit apologetic. The ass. He told Rose, “My grandmother wants us to come in like all the other guests, and not through the side door.” 

That wasn’t much of a surprise. Narcissa was a rather formal woman that knew when to exploit an opportunity. Scorpius was notorious for his intense disdain for events she hosted and as soon as he was old enough, he never attended them. It only made sense for Narcissa to parade the fact that he’d voluntarily made an appearance. It was a bit of a relief that he’d be there with her when they entered the party. While Scorpius wasn’t the most social person, he’d learned good manners and etiquette from his family, and inherited his father’s charm. That was enough. He could mingle whereas Rose had little patience for small talk and dull situations. Her mum had been right. It made sense to attend with him.

But that didn’t mean Narcissa Malfoy had approved. “Does she know I’m your date, because if she did, she—”

“She knows.”

Rose awkwardly fingered the material of her dress robes. “How loud did she yell?”

“Not too loud. She’s just happy I’m coming.” He finished with a casual shrug that seemed stiff.

“The media—” 

“It’s not like this is the first event we’ve ever attended together.” Scorpius coughed. “Besides, you look…” 

“Beautiful?” Quincy supplied helpfully from the sofa, looking pleased with himself. Rose shot him the same single-fingered salute she’d given Lily earlier. And like that one, it was ignored. Quincy closed the book and laid it on the table. “Go on, Scorpius. You can say it.” 

The look Scorpius shot was so radioactive it could have laid waste to half the planet. He then shifted his eyes back to her and said, “You look beautiful, Rose.” 

She stood up straighter. “You, too—oh wait, damn.” 

And when Scorpius laughed, it was honestly a relief that her best friend hadn’t been replaced by a pod person. 

* * *

The gala was lavishly decorated with stunning visuals. There were fairy lights that stretched across the ceiling, ivy-twined vintage streetlamps, and clematis, with various shades of red, pink, white and peach flowers that decorated the walls of the ballroom as light from the artificial moonlight poured into the room from the glass ceiling. The floor was even grass. Real grass. But not the dance floor. 

Rose truly felt as if she were walking through the Malfoy gardens and secretly applauded Narcissa Malfoy’s vision. 

The stage and dancefloor were in the centre of the room, surrounded by beautifully decorated tables with fine China, crystal décor, and linens that were colour coordinated with the flowers. Behind the tables was a wall of seven-foot bushes that had various openings so guests could tour a scaled-down version of the famous garden’s maze. Rose had expected the media would be clamouring and yelling their names, but they were quietly posted along the bushes with a few photographers walking around, snapping pictures. The rest were at the entrance to photograph guests as they entered. 

Just late enough for it to be fashionable, Scorpius and Rose entered behind Lily and Quincy, who were posing for pictures; smiling confidently as photogenic people often do. His plan had been for them to slip past and blend into the crowd, but it was doomed from the start and thwarted by an observant cameraman. “Is that Scorpius Malfoy?” 

Then the flashing started. Rose wilted like a tropical plant in the desert under the harsh flash. 

Both her head and the room began to spin as nausea crept up from all corners. Rose’s heart pounded, her stomach rolled, and she wanted to scream, but somehow managed to paste on the same smile she reserved for family photos.

“Rose, you look lovely. Give us a spin.” 

Awkwardly, she stepped in a full circle in the slowest spin on earth. Somewhere nearby, Lily was likely bemoaning her cousin’s existence. 

“Rose, is that your natural hair colour?” 

She had no idea who had asked because she’d been rendered blind. Her stance may have been a bit wobbly…or maybe he’d asked because she hadn’t answered. Whatever it was, Scorpius’s hand went from his side to the middle of her back; a warm contrast against her cool skin. Rose, through her mounting nausea, regarded him curiously because he wasn’t the least bit tactile in public. It gave people the wrong idea. But Scorpius kept his hand there and flashed a well-trained smile in return. It was the Malfoy Media Smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but looked good on print. Rose thought it looked rather bizarre and _wrong_. It made her uncomfortable enough for her to turn back towards the photographers.

But then Scorpius leaned over and whispered, “_Breathe_.”

Her mind went back to the last time he’d said that word; where they breathed together until everything righted itself. Rose lifted her gaze and their eyes locked and held. It was different than before. She inhaled. He exhaled. She gathered herself and remembered that in two weeks no one would care about that night.

Rose’s awkwardly stiff smile softened as Scorpius’s turned more and more genuine. The flashbulbs kept going until the required amount of time had passed and they walked on. 

It was over.

When they were far enough away, Rose looked around and smoothed down her dress. The atmosphere was festive and warm, which was strange considering there were more than a hundred people milling around. She recognised several top-level administrators from St. Mungo’s, high ranking Ministry officials, business owners from Diagon Alley, several of her old bosses, an array of famous scholars, heroes from the second War, Quidditch players, etc. It was truly a Who’s Who in the wizarding world and Rose wondered why she was even there. 

“Where are the snacks?” Because through and through, she was a stress eater.

A tray of thin flutes appeared in front of them and they helped themselves. It was bubbly and sweet and probably had a splash of the same inhibition potion they’d had at the rave. Only modified. But it was enough. Tension began to bleed from her bones and out her body. It was just what Rose needed to keep from making a mad dash out the side exit.

“We’re supposed to mingle and look like we’re having a good time.” Scorpius said as his now empty flute vanished from his hand. He was looking at her with vast amusement as she tossed back two more drinks in rapid succession. “If you choke, I’m not saving you.”

“Liar,” she rolled her eyes and drank one more. Just to get her through.

He didn’t argue. “Ready?”

She groaned petulantly, folding her arms across her chest. “I’d rather be sealed in a room with Inferi and no wand.”

But Scorpius offered his hand and she took it.

Rose was observant in a tactical way, spotting each and every curious look they drew; every head that turned in their direction. Old and young, in the past fifteen minutes, she’d counted no more than ten looks, six double-takes, and one person who just boldly pointed. Rude. She knew Scorpius noticed it, but his face had gone back to carefully blank as he chatted with the head of his department at St. Mungo’s. He was the third person they’d greeted as they made their way.

After the initial pleasantries were exchanged, Rose stopped listening to their conversation, as she’d done before. Her eyes scanned the room once more, spotting her aunt and uncle posing for pictures with a very pleased-looking Narcissa Malfoy and The Minister posing for photos with her parents. It was strange to see them together knowing what she knew. 

“Your grandmother really outdid herself this yes, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir.” Scorpius answered amicably. Rose spotted Lily and Quincy in a group of very attractive people talking animatedly about something. Probably models or people in the industry. She wondered where Al was. 

“And Rose, how are you feeling after your incident?”

She jumped back into the conversation almost wondered how the head of the trauma department knew what had happened, but remembered herself and kept her tone polite. “Recovered. Thank you.”

“Please give my regards to your mother,” he said pleasantly.

“I will.”

Thankfully, Scorpius intervened before he could ask or say anything else. “Enjoy your evening, sir.” The two men nodded at each other and Scorpius led them away. When they were far enough, Scorpius smirked and mocked her response in the poshest tone he could muster. _“Recovered. Thank you.”_

“Oi!” Rose almost slapped him, but thought it might make the papers. Instead, she squeezed the hand that was still entwined with hers. _Hard_. She twisted her wrist a bit, just enough to incite a low moan of pain from Scorpius…who made sure not to so much as flinch. Then she smiled for the first time since they’d started mingling. Scorpius bumped her shoulder in retaliation, but Rose already knew she’d won the battle.

In a moment that was far too Slytherin for her liking, Scorpius dropped a bomb: “We have to lead the first dance.”

Rose stopped in her tracks, dropping his hand. She’d won the battle, but lost the war. “Excuse me?” She whispered hotly. “I didn’t agree to this!”

He just smiled serenely. The prat. “You did when you agreed to come with me.”

“I—” she started to argue, then dropped her voice lower because their presence had drawn attention. “I thought your grandparents—”

“My grandfather complained about his hip.”

Rose spotted him not too far…_standing_ with ease as he chatted with two old ministry officials. She threw her hand in his direction. “_Looks fine to me_.” The lying liar.

Scorpius followed her line of vision, frowning a bit. “That’s…not what he told my grandmother.”

“How about your parents?” He just blinked at her until she realised how much that was _not_ going to happen. “Ah…” Rose was running out of excuses. “You know I can’t dance. Why don’t you dance with Lily?”

He made a face. “I’d rather not give her any ideas.”

That was fair. Rose sighed and hammered the last nail into her own coffin.

She wasn’t getting out of it. “_Fine_.”

Scorpius smirked, “Just follow my lead. It’s just a simple waltz with a lift on the third beat. Think Yule Ball.”

He offered his hand and she begrudgingly took it, sorely regretting the ballroom dancing lessons she’d passed on the summer before Fifth Year. “Doesn’t sound that simple.” Rose grouched.

That time, he stopped suddenly. “Well, that’s certainly simpler than what’s incoming.”

“Incoming?” Rose lifted her to Scorpius, whose face had gone perfectly blank. She followed his line of vision to his parents who were walking towards them.

His _parents_.

Both of them.

Rose swore hotly. Her first instinct was to cut to the right left and vanish into the crowd in what would be a tactical retreat, but Scorpius had a good grip of her hand. Besides, it was already too late and the last thing she needed was for Scorpius’s mother to think she’d won. Rose wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, so she took a few cleansing breaths and squared her shoulders in preparation. And they waited.

At the last moment, he released her hand. Rose thought the action made sense; after all, she famously did not get on with Scorpius’s mother. Or was it infamous? She would have chased that thought further, but then Scorpius rested his newly-freed hand on the middle of her back. What? Rose stiffened, but didn’t move because they were _right there_.

Whenever Rose saw Scorpius’s parents together, she always thought that they made a rather nice couple, aesthetically-speaking. When they weren’t arguing. They stood side by side; his mother a full head shorter than his father. She wore silk dark grey robes that beautifully fit and flared at her waist. Mr Draco worse all black, as usual.

“Darling,” Astoria greeted her son with an air kiss on his right; her tone was light, but her movements were tense.

“Mother,” he greeted in return, without moving his damn hand. Then, he exchanged an unreadable look with Mr Draco. “Father.”

“Son,” he replied then looked at Rose, who instantly recognised his amusement. She knew why he was entertained. Or why he would soon be entertained. “Rose.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” she greeted with a calculated smile that made all shreds of delight vanish. She internally cheered, then regarded his mother who hadn’t bothered to greet her properly. “Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Miss. Weasley.” Astoria always said her name as if she were an annoying bug. “I see you’re here.”

The odds of her escaping the conversation without losing her temper took a nosedive. “I—”

“Not today, Mother.” Scorpius warned sharply. “We have an audience.” Rose didn’t look, she knew better, but with the tension rolling off them in waves, people were noticing and looking.

She had the gall to look innocent. “I was simply acknowledging her presence, Scorpius. You shouldn’t be so sensitive.” Astoria chided lightly. “In fact, I was just wondering if Miss. Weasley wanted to accompany me on a walk through the garden exhibit.”

She smiled, but there was ice behind it.

Well, that was a trap, and everyone knew it. And yet. “I’d be delighted to.”

Between everything she’d been through and now Scorpius’s mother, Rose was _done_ being well-behaved and polite. She already had been up against a hooded figure with a dagger; his mother was nothing in comparison. Sure, she’d lost that fight, but somewhere, someone had at least a bloody nose. Scorpius shot her a look that said, _are you crazy?_

And yes, yes she was feeling a little crazy.

Amusement returned to Mr Draco’s face.

She stepped to the side and away from his hand. “I’ll make sure I’m back in time for the dance,” then addressed his mother, “Shall we?”

The exhibit was a beautifully scaled down version of the Malfoy Manor’s extensive garden. It was manicured, stately, and equipped with sounds of nature. They walked together in silence, passing other guests who marvelled at the plants, trees and sculptures. Rose kept her eyes carefully trained on the path ahead, stopping only when Astoria halted to marvel at something or the other.

Plants were beautiful, but Rose only had a passing interest in gardening and horticulture.

Besides, she was waiting for the other woman to strike. But she didn’t. Not until the end of the tour when there was no one around. “I see you came with my son.” 

“I did.” 

Astoria chuckled dryly. “I’m always surprised to see that you two are still so close. Your personalities are so different it’s a wonder what he sees in you.”

Rose said nothing, only rolling her eyes in response. Such a simple insulting tactic was almost beneath her.

“I hear you’re working as a Healer’s Assistant.” She said it like an insult.

“Correct,” Rose replied blandly. “At St. Mungo’s.”

“With Scorpius. Interesting.”

“Actually, we work in different departments.”

They walked along in silence for several moments until his mother said, “It’s so nice that Scorpius has a friend like you. I do wonder if you’ll continue to monopolize all his time and prevent him from meeting his future wife.”

Of all the things Rose expected for her to say, that wasn’t it. It took her off guard momentarily. 

“Excuse me?”

“I say this because you two seem to spend an awful amount of time together, and Scorpius is getting to that age where he should be at least considering marriage. It’s off-putting to suitable witches.”

“Suitable?”

Astoria plucked a flower from one of the displays and handed it to Rose, who did not take it because she knew she would take her aggression out on said flower.

Created by magic or not, the damn thing didn’t deserve such treatment.

“In fact, the last time I was in town, he begged off to take you to a movie. And this time, you’re staying in the Manor in the guest room just down the hall from his bedroom. You don’t have other friends? How can he date when you’re always there?”

Rose inhaled, gathering her thoughts for her rebuttal and hoped something other than _‘piss the hell off’_ came out of her mouth. Surprisingly, her words flowed out without issue. “Have you ever considered that perhaps Scorpius begged off because he didn’t want to be around you? That he hardly _ever_ wants to be around you. You come around for every important life event, but _nothing_ changes that for your own personal reasons you stopped wanting to be his mother.”

Astoria’s blue eyes narrowed sharply. “I—”

“Not to mention, how could he _possibly_ want to be around you when you _only_ come to pass judgment—_judgment_ that isn’t your right to pass.”

“I’m his mother.”

“That’s bloody _rich_.”

“My only concern—”

“_Concern_?” She shot back, hotter and madder than she wanted to be right then. She clenched her fists at her side in an attempt to calm herself down. Rose exhaled. “If you were truly concerned, you’d be out there with him and not in here accusing me of sabotaging him from meeting other witches. He’s a bloody _adult_. He can go out and socialise with whomever he pleases. I don’t have a damn thing to do with that.”

“You have everything to do with—”

“Until next time, Mrs. Malfoy.” She dismissed her sharply. Rose took a step forward, decided against it, and turned to his mother who looked as angry as she felt. _Good_. “Enjoy the rest of the exhibit and your evening, I’m leaving.

And she stormed off.

Rose rounded two corners before she realised, she was going in the wrong direction; towards the entrance of the exhibit. But she wasn’t going back. With renewed determination, she started her trek to the entrance and ran into Al and…well, _Jane_, who were walking in her direction.

Al looked dapper in his robes and tousled hair, and Bangs matched the garden in floor-length robes with falling flowers. She wore a crown of ivy that not only fit her personality, but was rather adorable. The ultimate flower child. Luna would love her. Too bad she was in Amazon rainforest with Rolf, searching for a Heliopath on the loose. 

When Jane saw her, she yelled, “Rose!” and waved with both hands while Al regarded her curiously. She probably looked flustered, hell she still _felt_ flustered. But Jane didn’t know Rose well enough to know when her mood was off. Not like Al did.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she said to Jane.

“Yes, Al thought you might need to see a friendly face so he asked me to come with him.”

Rose looked at her cousin, who had taken a sudden interest in a flower. “Is that so?” She looked back at Jane. “I could use a friendly face. Let’s get out of here.”

“Scorpius is looking for you,” Al told her as they continued towards the entrance, Rose in front. “They’re about to start in ten minutes. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Rose answered tightly, rolling her shoulders back, trying to relieve the tension.

Bangs was quickly catching on to her mood. “You don’t look fine.”

“Scorpius told us you were in here with his mum. And that went…”

“As well about as well as always.”

“That good, then.” Al remarked as they exited the exhibit. Scorpius was waiting, adjusting his cufflinks and trying to look busy. “Oi, mate! We found her.”

At that, he looked over and gave her an oddly probing look that Rose carefully ignored in her agitation. Another tray appeared in front of her and Rose guzzled down two more drinks before she accepted the hand Scorpius had extended. That would do.

“I’m guessing it went well with my mother.”

“Well enough, I didn’t push her into any bushes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

By the time they were in the centre of the empty dance floor, Rose had regained her composure, only to nearly lose it again when she realised there were over a hundred eyes on them.

“Rose?” Scorpius said as they waited, in position, for the music to start. “Just follow my lead.”

And when the music started, she did. Soon, they were doing a near perfect rendition of the waltz that McGonagall would have been proud to witness. The first lift went so well that there was actual applause.

Rose got too confident, which was where she went wrong.

Toward the end of the waltz, she missed a step which caused her to take a step back, ready to be spun when Scorpius was ready to lift her. The unexpected move caught her off guard, causing her to flail so hard he nearly lost his balance. But he didn’t and no one seemed the wiser, judging from the routine applause. But in the smooth recovery as Scorpius lowered her to the floor, her right arm _failed her_ and buckled. Rose let out a yelp before she crashed chest-first into him.

And in the chaos, Scorpius staggered, Rose flailed, and somehow their mouths clacked together.

_Oh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I realize I'm trying to compensate for the long time between first posting this with extremely long chapters. Also Rose wouldn't shut up. I've just started chapter 10 and Scorpius is being extremely pedantic. Sigh. My beta is gonna kill me. I'll be working on it full steam this weekend, but it's looking like these chapters are gonna be long. Lord have mercy. But alas, the ride continues. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted this story to go, trying to decide if I want to complicate things further with emotions or with the dagger. I've decided on both. Because I'm me.
> 
> Also Oh. Here we go.


	10. Questions of Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I was just guessing at numbers and figures_   
_Pulling your puzzles apart_   
_Questions of science, science and progress_   
_Do not speak as loud as my heart_   
**The Scientist: Coldplay**

**Chapter Ten: Questions of Science**   
  


Someone said that a picture was worth a thousand words.

The phrase referred to the belief that complex ideas and emotions could be conveyed with just one photo. It never made sense to Scorpius because there were fundamental differences between looking at photos—even magical ones—and reading words. It boiled down to the standpoint of how humans processed information. He knew that people were more than just a system of input, storage, and output. There were other factors like free will, emotions, memory, experience, and so many others that came into play. And—well, truth be told, those factors were heavily influenced by their senses.

Five of them: smell, touch, hearing, taste, and most importantly, _sight_.

There it was: a defect in his own logic.

In the last five days, he'd read every article, statement, and bit of news printed about them in an attempt to correct the flaw.

The problem was that each article used asinine phrases like _lifelong_ _friends _and _union between warring families_ as if the Weasleys and Malfoys met up on every first weekend of the month to do battle. It was patently ridiculous. However, when Scorpius caught a glimpse of the pictures taken of them at the Gala…well, perhaps it was time to revisit the phrase to further investigate its validity.

After all, those five photos spoke _volumes_.

Magical photos were strange because, while they captured a few seconds of their lives, they were still only a snapshot in time; hours abridged in five shots that had been sensationalised and given far more meaning than deserved. The only reaction in real-time to their 'kiss' were the collective gasps from onlookers and Rose's quiet panicking because she'd broken his nose.

It had been a quick fix and neither spared the moment a second thought.

They returned to the table after Scorpius had been mended and the night continued. There were speeches, the wealthy flaunting their generosity, and enough pomp and circumstance to bore them. Once that was over, the party began in earnest: the band started playing more up-tempo music and the potions and drinks started flowing. Their paths hadn't crossed for a while as they were both summoned by their parents to make individual rounds.

At one point, Lily had cornered him in an attempt to get him to dance, but Quincy tactfully cut in. Later, while Lily was off with her friends, Scorpius had gotten a chance to know Quincy and Jane better. Jane was a bubble of eccentric energy that Al seemed to find more intriguing as the night went on. Quincy was far too observant for his liking, but he'd already known that from the looks he'd given him and Rose from across the table.

Later, Scorpius and Rose had danced to a few more songs because she felt bad—slow songs that didn't involve any lifts. They socialised and laughed and joked around with their small circle of friends (and family); and when Rose was over human interaction, they took a stroll through the garden exhibit, holding hands and debating about whether water could be wet.

It was an attempt to divert his questions about her argument with his mother, but he let it pass.

Neither were ready the next morning when The Prophet had put their kiss—if it could be called that because Rose had essentially _fallen into his face_ at the perfect angle for their mouths to touch—on the front page of the morning edition with a spectacular headline.

They had been the first.

By the end of the hour, every media outlet in the damn country had run the story with accompanying photos.

Needless to say, all hell broke loose.

The press made simple tasks like _existing in nature_ far more complicated. Owls poured in with letters and they never stopped. Hundreds upon hundreds of requests for interviews and comments came not to just their homes, but their parents' homes. Photographers waited outside of their job and every known hangout spot trying to capture a shot of them. Al had lost count of how many journalists tried to access their Floo before he blocked it off.

Scorpius' presence at work on day two had been so distracting that his boss made him use paid holiday time until the frenzy died down. It was non-negotiable. Rose was still off of work due to the Ministry investigation, but she'd gone back to her flat and found her sitting room littered with letters and exploding Howlers.

That had pushed her over the edge and she retreated with half her mother's research to The Burrow. Al brought the other half and Scorpius, as the Manor was no longer an option if he wanted to stay sane. Besides, The Burrow was Unplottable. Quincy had come on day four to assist with research and brought Jane, who was being harassed due to her friendship with Rose.

After five days, Scorpius was beginning to understand what a caged animal in the zoo felt like.

His parents—namely his mother—had been busy doing major damage control since the first article was published, issuing statements, denying the rumours as unfounded. The problem was that _silence_ had always been the best weapon against the media, but his mother didn't listen. In her quest to extinguish the fire, she only fanned the flames to the inferno surrounding them.

Scorpius wasn't sure if a photo could speak louder than words, but he knew one thing for certain:

_Photos didn't_ _lie_.

The first two were meaningless; they had been talking and laughing and making wild gestures after the nose-breaking ordeal. The third had been taken from behind while they walked hand-in-hand in the garden exhibit. Not uncommon because Rose was tactile and there were _many_ photos of them holding hands in the past. Partly to stop her from wandering off. The fourth had been the 'kiss' itself where the photographer had captured the perfect moment when their mouths touched, but none of the splitting pain and bloodshed that followed.

But last photo.

Publications were starting to feature it more over the days. It had been taken when he and Rose were posing together. And damn it to hell, Scorpius might as well have been standing there naked, as exposed as he'd left himself; crammed to the brim with words and meaning, ready to share with anyone who knew how to read him. He wondered what Rose thought about it, but she had only grumbled about people not having anything to do with their time and went back to her research.

And that was that.

Scorpius was tired of thinking and reading, so he stopped doing both and closed the magazine. Tucking it under the blanket he sat on, he shifted on the blanket and focused on the sight in front of him.

It was unseasonably warm and sunny at The Burrow, with temperatures reaching almost sixteen degrees. Winter was trying to release its grip early, and Scorpius wasn't too upset. He swapped his glasses for the sunglasses Rose had bought him last summer; they were spelled to adjust to his ever-changing vision.

He spotted Quincy, Al, and Jane on a blanket not too far away. Al looked absolutely ridiculous wearing the daisy crown Jane had made him, especially with the look of concentration he wore as he watched his cousin and dad duel. Quincy, meanwhile, watched Jane with extreme delight as she jumped up and down in strawberry decorated overalls and a pale pink shirt, butchering the Slytherin Quidditch chant.

"_Grin-grin-Slytherin!"_

She'd gone to school in the States, after all.

Ron returned with a bag of popcorn and plopped down in the grass next to Scorpius without taking his eyes off the sight of his daughter dodging another spell. "How is she—" They both cringed when Rose got flattened by a training spell. "_Bloody hell_." Her father called out, "It's only—" He checked the scoreboard behind them as it magicked another tally mark under Harry's name. "Thirty-seven knockdowns to five!"

A vast improvement from her first lesson two days ago when she hadn't scored once.

Scorpius gestured to the scoreboard. "Is that necessary?"

"Probably not, but it's bloody _hilarious_."

Rose's dad had a strange sense of humour.

Ron went back to cheering on his daughter. "You've got this, Rosie!"

"I don't have shit!" Rose yelled from the spot she'd landed. When a laughing Harry tried to help her up, she spread her arms and legs, resembling a starfish. "Just leave me here to _die!_"

"You're doing so well!" Albus attempted to encourage his cousin.

"You are _such_ a liar!"

He just shrugged. "I tried!"

"_Grin-grin-Slytherin!"_

Seemed that nobody was going to correct Jane.

Rose was attempting to scoot away from Harry, who was trying to pull her to her feet with both hands but was laughing so hard that the task was nearly impossible. Laughter, it seemed was contagious, and he found himself joining in. Ron did as well, spilling popcorn on Scorpius before offering some. He declined while brushing the kernels off his trousers, letting them fall on the blanket.

"Sorry." Ron picked up a kernel off the blanket. For a second, he looked like he was about to eat it, but changed his mind.

_Good_.

"It's fine."

A still-laughing Harry successfully dragged his groaning niece back to her feet. Scorpius looked on as he gave her some pointers and corrected her stance and wand movement before they started again. Despite the fact that she was sweating profusely, her hair wild like fire, Rose went back on the offence and proudly earned her sixth point.

"_Grin-grin-Slytherin!"_

She whooped and jumped around, giving Harry a high-five when he got to his feet. He looked proud, even though he rubbed his lower back and declaring, "I'm too old for this." Al and Jane cheered while Quincy clapped. Scorpius proudly applauded with Ron, who pumped his fist in the air. And when their eyes met, for just a moment, Rose's smile became less showy and more genuine.

"Don't let your guard down, Rose!" Al called out. "Pay attention!"

It was over before Scorpius could file it away.

She took her stance.

"Does she seem…_oddly_ motivated to you?" Ron asked him while they watched her duel. "She's thrown herself into researching, duelling lessons, and working out her ankle. I'd be proud, if I weren't so suspicious."

"It's not like we have much else to do with all _this_ going on," Scorpius picked up and waved the magazine around. Instead of stuffing it under the blanket, he sat it between himself and Ron. He turned his attention back to Rose who now stood with her uncle, listening as he directed her.

Regardless, her dad had a point.

Rose had a level of focus he hadn't seen in years. It was a bit terrifying. She swore through yoga with Lily. It was only suggested to keep the migraines Rose had recently developed at bay. She ate whatever healthy option Mrs. Weasley provided, and didn't complain too much about the lack of bacon. She spent hours pouring through her mother's notes with him as they tried to piece them together.

At night after dinner, when their eyes and brains were tired, Al would drag them both out for entertainment. Well, as much amusement as they could find in the isolation of The Burrow. It usually involved games and stories from school and bonfires and roasting marshmallows; talking and laughing like they had done on breaks from school. James had come by after work every day and caused trouble, Rose had burnt every marshmallow and swore she liked the taste of char, Al had spent most of the time split between talking to Jane and arguing with James, and Lily had just glared at them all. She was above such childishness.

When Quincy and Jane showed up at the Burrow yesterday, Jane took over Rose-duty because Lily had to work. Rose didn't swear at all as Jane took her through Sun Salutation or when she made her sit perfectly still and clear her mind.

"_Grin-grin-Slytherin!"_

He had to admit he liked having Jane around.

Since her arrival, whenever Rose was out of sorts or agitated, Scorpius would find her and Jane doing odd things: soap-making out back, pulling weeds in the garden in preparation for Mrs. Weasley's planting, crocheting lessons in the sitting room, and origami at the kitchen table. All were things that Rose would normally hate, but she did them with Jane without argument and even seemed to enjoy herself. Except for the crocheting. She hated that with a passion and threatened to set it all on fire with the power of her mind.

Or something.

Jane had just laughed and laughed, not taking her _very real threat_ seriously.

He didn't understand their friendship.

Rose had barely been able to stand her odd quirks and cheerful disposition when they had first met. So, Scorpius was surprised when Rose brought Jane to an outing about a week later; his wonder only grew when she _kept_ bringing her along. Jane was patient and kind and seemed determined to become Rose's friend, despite her surliness. It seemed that she had accomplished her goal through sheer strength of will.

It was remarkable.

"I suppose you're right." Her dad said thoughtfully. Scorpius looked at him because it didn't feel like he was finished talking. When he ran a hand over his hair, much like Rose did when she was feeling awkward, he knew there was more. "What do you think about all that?"

Scorpius played dumb. "What?"

"The rumours."

He chose his words carefully. "They're just that. Rumours."

Ron made a small, pensive noise as he stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth; a few kernels missed. As he chewed, he picked up a kernel that landed on his shirt and tossed it into his mouth as well. He waited until he was finished before he sat down the bag of popcorn and picked up the magazine. "Rumours are always based on fact."

Dread rose in him as Ron flipped through Witch Weekly almost lazily before he stopped. He didn't need to look to know what had caught his attention. He was looking at the photos.

In particular, _that photo_.

"When I saw this photo, everything clicked. I finally understood what Hermione's been trying to explain to me for years."

Scorpius was _mortified_ and unnerved, desperately trying to keep composure. His brain filled to the brim with host of intangible thoughts that were as indistinct as the wind that blew his hair out of place. He knew what her dad was trying to say and his heart pounded out of control. Nausea crept up slowly. Thankfully, his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses because he could only imagine how wide his eyes were. Scorpius felt his face heat up with embarrassment at the thought and—wait a damn minute.

_How long had her mother known?_

Could have been five months or five years, for all he knew.

_Shit. Shit._

Scorpius tried to replay every interaction they'd had since their first, but his mind was a jumbled mess of apprehension and stress.

It was one thing to accept his feelings for what they were and another to investigate whether Rose actually _shared_ his feelings, but it was a completely _different_ matter altogether to discuss them with her father.

_Fuck_.

Scorpius prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, guarding his privacy with maddening efficiency. He hated more than anything else that _one photo_ had blown all his hard work straight to hell.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

It was a piss poor attempt at misdirection.

And it didn't work.

"You look at her like I look at Hermione." Ron closed the magazine and spent a quiet moment watching Rose practice protective spells, while Scorpius was torn between an internal meltdown and willing himself not to so much as twitch. "Sometimes, I still wonder what her mother sees in me, why she puts up with my shit or even why I put up with her insanity, but I'm glad we never gave up on each other. She's something that only happens once in a lifetime."

Her dad looked at Scorpius almost knowingly, flashing just a hint of a smile.

"I think you understand what I'm saying."

Scorpius gave a jerky nod. He didn't trust his voice.

Ron chuckled to himself and shook his head in bewilderment. "When you first started coming around, I never thought I'd be having this conversation. You were just Malfoy's scrawny kid and Al's best friend. I didn't even want you to stay with us when Al got sick because your dad and I never got on, but Hermione overruled me." He chewed his popcorn thoughtfully. "As you two got older, Hermione started hinting at the possibility of—" He looked around awkwardly, up at the sky then down at the grass. Ron seemed to be at a loss for the correct words, but Scorpius knew what he was trying to say. "Well, _you know_."

He did.

"I thought she had finally gone _completely_ mental."

Scorpius tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"When I picture someone for my Rosie, I've never once pictured you." Ron winced and tried to quickly explain. "She's organised chaos and you're just…_not_. I doubt Rosie knows what she's doing or what she wants from life. I just figure we'll have to wait and watch her to flail around until she figures it out. But you're steady and in control and you've always had a plan. You remind me of Hermione in some ways, and that's why I never thought about you and Rosie."

He wondered if he could force the ground to open beneath him through pure self-determination.

"Rosie and Hermione don't get on sometimes, so I—" Ron fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "Hermione likes order, she's practical and bossy; she wants you to live up to your full potential and Rosie's like a rogue bludger. You never know what she's going to go next or who she's going to hit. She's never reacted well when pushed." Ron dug his hand into the bag, eating another handful of popcorn. "But I guess it makes sense. You've always accepted her for who she is, you've never pushed, nor have you ever tried to make her into someone she wasn't."

Nothing on Earth could force Rose to do _anything_ that hadn't been her plan all along.

Well, nothing…_and_ her mum.

"Hermione's always said that you're the yin to her yang, but I didn't see it until the hospital you practically held her together. I never thanked you for being there for her."

"I'm her friend." Scorpius said lamely.

"Friend?" Ron snorted. "I don't have friends who look at me like that."

He said nothing and Rose's dad took his silence as permission to continue ruining his damn day.

"She's difficult and stubborn, but you know that. Hermione and I argue about who she got that from. I still say it's her fault." Ron smiled more to himself than at Scorpius, who had only just managed to control his breathing. "She is who she is, but she also inherited a double dose of our insecurities, though Rosie won't admit it on pain of death."

Together, they watched Harry and Rose cast protective charms as the wind picked up.

"Like me, Rosie has never been good with emotions. I spent years in love with her mum without knowing it. It took a Quidditch accident for me to realise it, a war for me to act on it, and loads of fights and slammed doors for me to understand what it meant to really love someone."

Scorpius looked at her dad, who was watching the duelling lesson intently until he suddenly reached out and patted his shoulder in sympathy.

It was a move that basically said, _'Good luck in hell, mate.'_

Just great.

Ron looked at him. "She never goes with the flow, especially when it comes to something she doesn't understand. And she won't understand because she inherited my emotional awareness."

Scorpius finally spoke up after clearing his throat. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't think Rosie has had a person, outside our family, that means more to her than you."

He looked down at his hands, but filed everything away for further processing.

"I've always found it strange how different you are from your father. I can't stand him, but he did a good job in raising you to be nothing like he was. I don't necessarily like the idea of you and Rosie because, _bloody hell_, your dad is still a _massive_ git, no offence."

"None taken."

"But Hermione has always liked you. And don't get me wrong, I do too. You've always been good for her. Maybe she could be good for you, too. Maybe she can help you open up, liven you up some, and get you out of your own head. Perhaps you'll ground her, be there as she figures out herself and what she wants from life, and be something that she's passionate about. Just…" he ran a hand over his hair. "Be patient with her, don't back her into a corner, and make a damn good plan in case it all goes nuclear when she figures her emotions out." Ron looked pained. "Oh, uhh, don't tell your dad about the nice shit I said about him being a good father."

Scorpius laughed hoarsely. "As long as we pretend this conversation never happened."

"Deal."

* * *

When the coast was clear, Scorpius allowed himself to watch Rose.

_Scientifically_.

In a quest to figure her out, Scorpius had tuned himself into her frequency, storing the cause and meaning of every interaction for a private moment where he could investigate it for clues, cues, and indications; _something_ that would tell the story of the inner workings of her mind.

At least as it pertained to her feelings for him.

He hadn't gotten much from her in the past five days: only uncomfortable realisations.

Rose looked positively untamed in a too-large Slytherin shirt, leggings, and trainers. Flushed and sweaty from exertion, her ponytail was one gust of wind away from completely coming undone.

And Scorpius was…_captivated_.

He knew his feelings, recognised them for what they were, but he never allowed himself to fully understand everything that came with them. _Attraction. Interest. Want._ And as Scorpius watched her, he found it easy to fall into the trap of just watching _her_. He quietly liked that she'd left her hair its natural colour after the Gala, but secretly it didn't matter if she dressed up, was dirty from pulling weeds, or had tea stains on her shirt, she would still be beautiful to him.

Scorpius was used to his place as her friend; used to ignoring her looks and telling himself that her moments of affection were platonic. In a quest to keep his sanity, he'd kept his own feelings bottled up and sealed away. But since he'd started sorting the puzzle pieces of Rose, since he started trying to answer the questions of her affection; he found it difficult to keep his own feelings restrained.

Even now, while watching her duelling lessons with her uncle, the urge to march over there and speak his heart was so overwhelming it made him positively _sick_.

And it wasn't the first time he'd felt the compulsion.

His self-control had always been so reliable so moments like those terrified him.

But ultimately, he knew he never would.

Not until he knew for certain.

"Happy Birthday, Scorpius." Ron said out of the blue. "It's tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yes."

"I'm going out of town with George and I won't be able to attend the party."

_Party?_ That was news to him. Because he specifically told Albus _no_ to having a party. He wanted something small at a pub where no one would know them; something with his closest friends, some co-workers, and his cousin, Teddy, if he was in town. Anything would be better than a party. Scorpius never cared for them or the attention that came with one being thrown specifically for him; the prospect of both almost did him in.

He tried not to sound as aggravated as he felt. "What party?"

Ron made a face and seemed to backpedal out of that portion of the conversation. He pretended to check his watch. "Oh, look at the time. When is—" The rest of what he said was cut off when he did a double-take at his watch. "Oi!" he yelled at Harry, who was lifting his wand after giving Rose instruction. "It's been an hour!"

"Okay," Harry waved him off and ended the lesson, scheduling the next one for the day after tomorrow. He told Rose to work on her defensive spells and her stance. "Oh, and ignore the scoreboard because your dad _isn't_ _funny_."

To which, Ron almost fell over laughing.

Rose exchanged looks with Harry and they both rolled their eyes.

"Seriously, you did great today. I'm proud of your progress." Al might have said it before, but now Rose seemed to preen under her uncle's tutelage, despite the fact that she looked windblown. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the Academy?"

"Positive." She rolled her eyes. "Have you _seen_ the way I follow orders? Simple: _I don't_."

They both laughed at the truth.

"Rosie!" Ron called over to his daughter. "I brought your favourite ice-cream."

"Yay!" She almost jogged towards them with a bemused Harry walking behind her. She freed her ponytail about halfway to them so her hair caught the breeze, streaming behind her like a banner. Scorpius froze, just watching, but got to his feet after Ron. He shook the grass from the blanket before folding it carefully.

While Rose tried to jump on her dad's back and he danced away, Scorpius made sure to pocket his glasses and the copy of Witch Weekly as the two joked around. "You're going to break my back! Then what would your mum need me for?"

Rose stopped, looking confused. "Why wouldn't mum—" Realisation dawned on her. "Gross!"

Her dad cackled. "It's why you're here."

She only groaned. "Now I need to be Obliviated."

"_Rose!_" Her uncle and dad chastised simultaneously.

Shrugging, she looked at Scorpius. "Too soon?"

"Just a bit." And because Rose would know the answer, he asked. "So…what's this about a party tomorrow?"

She slapped herself in the forehead and glared at her dad who she assumed—_correctly_—had told him. Her dad looked sheepish. Scorpius folded his arms, awaiting an answer. "It's Lily. Al and I told her you didn't want a party, but when does she ever listen? She decided you were missing out on a proper celebration because of the press and planned one in like four days. Sorry."

"It's not your fault." Scorpius wasn't the least bit amused, but he let it go.

He'd get through this one like he got through them all.

"Al, Quincy, Jane, do you all want ice-cream?" Ron asked.

The three, who were still lounging on the blanket, looked over at once.

"Did you say ice-cream?" Al asked, head tilted to the side.

"Yep." Ron answered, smiling, as Harry started walking towards his son. "There is also fudge."

Jane scrambled to her feet. "Yay!"

"Yay!" Rose joined in. "I apologise for every grey hair I put on your head, dad."

There weren't many, but enough. "You've caused all my grey hairs. Well, you and your mum. Mainly your mum."

They both laughed.

Quincy took on the folding duties while Al and Jane walked towards them; the former still sporting the daisy crown. When Harry caught sight of his son, he raised a brow and smiled, draping an arm around his son's shoulder. He said something to Jane that Scorpius didn't catch, but she just grinned and skipped ahead of them towards Rose.

Father and son exchanged another look before Al rolled his eyes.

Jane and Rose rejoiced for ice-cream until the former reminded Rose that she needed to stretch and pulled her away. Scorpius watched them go before he was caught looking by her dad, who smirked knowingly.

_Gods._

Scorpius shuffled awkwardly, still feeling embarrassed and out of sorts. Ron patted his shoulder again in sympathy and greeted Al, who was busy glaring at his dad. Her dad led the way back to The Burrow, chattering animatedly to Harry about their Blokes Night Out with their mates from school.

Scorpius lingered behind with Al, flicking one of the daisies on his crown. "You look stupid."

Albus dodged his hand. "Your sunglasses are stupid."

"You're _both_ stupid," Quincy said from behind them, carrying the blanket as he walked past them, following Harry and Ron towards the Burrow at a more leisurely pace.

He and Al exchanged looks before laughing at their own childishness. By the time they caught their breath, Jane was busy guiding Rose through a series of stretches while the latter muffled her complaints. Al was waiting for them and Scorpius had no choice but to stay as well. He watched his best friend, who kept his eyes on Jane as she adjusted her headband to keep her bangs out her face.

"So, you and Jane?"

When it had nothing to do with his own heart, Scorpius was nothing if not direct.

Besides, he'd seen them at the Gala together and knew just how Al looked when he was smitten.

Albus avoided eye-contact, flushed. He awkwardly stepped on a little rock and moving it with his shoe. "Uh." He rubbed his shoulder to show just how out of sorts he actually was. "I'm not sure. She's different."

"What did you tell me again?"

He rolled his eyes. "You've known Rose as long as you've known me, but I barely know her."

"Then get to know her."

"You should talk, mate. Did you figure out your puzzle?"

Scorpius didn't have to answer because there was a soft pop that signalled Lily's arrival. She startled Rose, who swore loudly. Jane just waved enthusiastically. Lily flashed her a genuine grin, then said something to Rose that made her glare hotly. Lily laughed, only stopping when she spotted him and Albus.

There was almost a calculating look on her face as she approached them; a look he didn't like because it was directed at him. Albus had the decency to pat him on the back, which essentially said _'you're on your own, mate'_ before taking the blanket from his hands and leaving him for Jane and Rose, who had gone back to stretching.

He shoved his sister playfully when she said something about the crown on his head.

Then Lily was standing in front of him.

Society loved to put people in categories and so did Scorpius, but there was no category for Lily Potter. She wasn't a stranger or acquaintance, but not a friend; something in between. She was—and had always been—Al's little sister and Rose's cousin. Lily was almost two years younger and they circled each other during school, never getting close. Of course, he'd gone on vacations with the Potters and Weasleys, but they never interacted much outside of isolated events and chats.

Nothing that would ever give her the idea that he thought more of her.

However, after Lily finished Hogwarts, she'd been on a mission to change her category through force. And that wasn't how it worked; she couldn't _make him_ see her as anything more, but that never stopped her from forcing herself into his bubble, cornering him every chance she got, and flipping her hair flirtatiously.

Lily sounded almost bashful when she greeted him. "Hullo."

It was such a direct contrast to her character that it made him pause. Lily was the type that knew she was attractive and used it to her advantage. Everything was done with a purpose: from the way she walked to the clothes she wore to the way her hair fell effortlessly into place. People always compared Rose and Lily, so Scorpius made it a point not to do that...until right then.

Lily was everything his mother wanted for him: charming, traditional, beautiful, and influential.

But she wasn't what he wanted for himself.

Perfection was overrated, and the definition to him meant something completely different.

"Come to discuss the birthday plans you made for me?" he asked casually, folding his arms.

Lily tucked her hair behind her ears. "I know there's a lot of attention on you and Rose because of the rumours, but I thought we could celebrate your birthday by having something at the Manor in one of the smaller ballrooms. Your grandmother agreed and we sent out invitations via owls two days ago. So far, we have sixty people who have confirmed."

"I don't have sixty friends."

Hell, there weren't sixty people outside of the Weasleys and Potters that he genuinely _liked_.

Scorpius never had a collector's mentality about friends; scrupulous and discerning. There had been plenty over the years who tried befriending him once the bullying stopped and he became more popular, but he wasn't interested. He'd approached Al and Rose's train car, not just because there was nowhere to sit, but because he had overheard Al talking about his nerves to Rose as they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

He'd thought of Al as something of a kindred spirit.

From there, he got to know Rose and liked her energy and dry wit. James was trouble, but fun. Henrietta was loyal, but didn't need reassurance. His friends from his House and other Houses were a mix of personalities that meshed well with his. And the few friends he'd made at St. Mungo's made the harder days better. _Those_ were the people he wanted to celebrate with. Not whoever the hell she invited.

"I forced Al to give me a list, but it had maybe ten people, which just wasn't enough. A few of my friends wanted to come, too, and I thought you wouldn't mind. And your mum—"

"My mother?" he said a little too sharply.

Lily was flustered at his tone. "She gave me a list of people she wanted me to invite."

Scorpius took the sunglasses off and put them on top of his head. He took deep, measured breaths to keep himself calm as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He already knew the sort of people his mother would have invited and he had little interest to deal with eligible witches and sycophants on his birthday.

"Is that fine?"

"It's not like I have much of a choice in the matter," Scorpius answered tightly.

She rocked forward a bit on her heels with a sultry look on her face and looked as if she were about to tell him something that would cheer him up. "Al and Rose told me you didn't want a party, but it's your birthday and you deserve it. Perhaps if we go together as proper dates," She met his gaze and held it as her tone changed to something almost sensual, "You'll let me make it worth your while."

He refused to dignify _any of that_ with a response.

Lily played with her earring, trying to temper her confidence with a shy act. "I promise no broken noses." She giggled.

"No thanks."

_"Score."_ Lily sighed with frustration. He cringed at the nickname. "I know I've been obvious for the past few months about the fact that I like you."

Just great.

It wasn't like he had been avoiding the conversation, but he'd hoped she would take the hint without a discussion. Scorpius fished his glasses from his pocket and put them on because he needed to be able to _see her clearly_ to emphasise his point. "I only see you as my best mate's sister. That's it."

Women like Lily never heard the word _no_ so he wasn't surprised by her comment, "You've never given me a chance."

"I don't need to give you a chance to know that we're not compatible," Scorpius said honestly. "You like the idea of me, Lily, but you don't know me. If you did, you'd know to listen to my best friends when they say that I don't want something. My only wish for my birthday was _one day_ where I can be myself around the people who know and care about the real me…and _not_ the Malfoy Heir."

She looked a bit remorseful, but he wasn't sure if she was sorry about throwing him an unwanted party or the fact that he'd said something about it. "I…Rose argued with me about the party and I didn't listen to her. I didn't think about it like that. I can cancel."

Scorpius shook his head. "It's too late for that now that my grandmother is involved." He looked at her and if his words sounded blunt, then perhaps they needed to be. "It's not really the point that I'm trying to make. Lily, I don't have feelings for you. I've known for months about yours and I've been trying to not embarrass you or give you the wrong idea."

"I thought you were just shy."

He made a face. "Reserved, yes, but I'm _definitely_ not shy."

Scorpius just didn't take risks without knowing every possible outcome. There was a difference.

Lily looked as if she were struggling with the concept that he didn't have feelings for her.

"Hmm," she said with renewed interest. "If you don't like me, then you must like _someone_."

And he didn't have to say a word because Rose ended the conversation. "Scorpius! Lily!" He looked past Lily and saw they were heading back to The Burrow; Jane skipping beside Albus, who was smiling. Rose pulled up the rear, hair blowing in the wind as she watched them with mild interest. "Are you two coming? Ice-cream waits for no one!"

Lily was about to ignore her when she recalled something. "_Who_ said you could have ice-cream?"

Rose gave a shout and took off towards the Burrow. Scorpius just laughed and watched as Lily gave chase.

* * *

Later that night, Scorpius left Al in front of the bonfire with his sister, who had been observing him as if he were an interesting insect she'd pinned to her board. That was dangerous. He'd have to be careful in the future to not further pique her curiosity.

Jane had long since gone to bed and Rose had left to continue reading through her mum's notes in the little study they'd converted into a small library for all the books her mother had acquired. Quincy was taking a Fire Call from his mother in the sitting room, the drawing of the dagger in his hands. He regarded the other man with a nod and continued on. Scorpius thought about going to bed, but figured he'd check on Rose to make sure she wasn't drooling on the books.

_Again_.

But she wasn't.

The table was cleared; books and parchment were stacked to one side while Rose sat at the empty end. The room was warm. She was in pyjamas and her hair still looked damp from her shower, but was starting to frizz. In front of her were two spoons and a glass container of berry trifle that had a candle sticking from the top.

When she saw him in the doorway, Rose lit the candle with a snap of her fingers in a display of wandless magic he hadn't known she'd perfected.

"Happy birthday." She grinned. "Make a wish."

"It's not until…" He checked his watch. "We have ten minutes."

"Oi!" Rose glared hotly. "Stop being so bloody particular and come over here."

Scorpius smiled and did just that. Their chairs were so close that they may as well have been fused into one seat. They were touching; their shoulders and arms brushing against each other.

"I thought you may want something normal and not with fifty of Lily's closest friends."

He frowned at the thought, but banished it because trifle in a cramped room meant more to him than a hundred parties. He appreciated the thought. "Did you make this?"

"My Nan did, but I assisted."

Scorpius gave her a sceptical look. He knew all about her cooking skills. In that she had none.

"_Okay_, Jane assisted, but I was the assistant to the assistant."

He chuckled and she smiled brightly in return. "And what does that entail?"

"I stayed out the way. Oh, and I didn't sample it. You should be proud. I love my Nan's trifle." She made a gesture towards it. "Hurry up now and blow your candle out. I brought two spoons for a reason." And she seemed excited about the dessert.

"I thought it was _my_ birthday," but he blew out the candle anyway.

Rose hugged him; her arms trapping his in place. And that was a good thing. Scorpius closed his eyes because she smelled like the vanilla and lavender soap she and Jane had made yesterday and books. His mind raced, but Scorpius remained committed to maintaining proper decorum. He held himself still, willing himself not to do anything stupid like turn his head in the quiet and—Scorpius tried not to choke and silently prayed she couldn't feel his heart beating out Beethoven's Fifth.

And she didn't.

Rose let him go and reached under the table, pulling out a small box. "For you."

"What is it?"

Scorpius stared at the box long enough for Rose to prod him. "Aren't you going to open it?"

He did and stared at the contents for a full minute, confused. "Is that a vial of sand? Black sand?"

"It's actually a Portkey. Completely legal, if you're wondering." He wasn't. "There's a spell to activate it when you're ready. My mum helped with the paperwork."

Scorpius just stared at her, almost speechless. "Where does it go?"

"Reynisfjara," Rose said slowly, practising the pronunciation as she played with the end of her hair. "You're always talking about travelling the world and I figured this would be a good start. The beach has black sand, how bloody cool is that?" Scorpius almost swallowed his tongue as flashes from his recurring dream slammed into him all at once. The beach with black sand, the woman, and the feelings that accompanied those dreams. He closed the box abruptly; too quick because Rose frowned, looking worried. "If you don't like it—"

"I do." He told her sincerely as he moved the box to the side. "Thank you."

"Good," she smiled warmly and picked up her spoon. "Because it's trifle time!"

It was his birthday, so she allowed him the first bite and they shared. It was sweet, but not terribly so.

"It's good, yes?"

Scorpius agreed mid-bite, quietly watching her help herself. Strange how he found himself content with sitting in the cramped makeshift library, eating berry trifle with Rose minutes before midnight. Strange how he always found himself content in her presence. He wanted to preserve his version of perfection for later dissection, but couldn't do much right then.

So, he did what he could.

He contented himself with his view as she contented herself with trifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo I decided to do somethings different. Aka these chapters were getting ridiculously out of hand in length that I think me cramming so much into one chapter will take away from the story as a whole (things will be missed) so I'm splitting them in half from here on out. Bonus: the next part is done. Not so bonus: I'm gonna wait until I finish the first part of Chapter 11 (and I'm about 5k into it) before I post it, but I'm making good stride. As always, thanks for your reviews and love. I appreciate it.
> 
> Also I loved writing every BIT of Scorpius and Ron's scene. Ron is older so he's had some growing time and he's more self-aware. Ron probably knows Rose better than them all. Because he's her dad. And she has a lot of his quirks. Also weep not for Lily. I wanted Scorpius to be a little more harsh, but he would not out of respect for Al. Also Jane is my fave OC of all time.


	11. The Pull Of Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wasted time_   
_I cannot say that I was ready for this___   
_But when worlds collide___   
_And all that I have is all that I want,___   
_The words seem to flow and the thoughts___   
_They keep running_   
**The Sun and the Moon: Mae**

**Chapter Eleven: The Pull of Gravity**

Scorpius had always been a morning person, but four-thirty was a bit too early to find himself awake. But he was. And Al's snores from the other bed had kept him from falling back asleep.

He threw his pillow, hitting him in the face and momentarily stopping his snoring.

But the damage was done. Scorpius was awake.

He pushed off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair until he felt a little more awake. Figuring he could have at least an hour of quiet before Mrs. Weasley started fussing about his birthday breakfast, Scorpius put on Al's slippers to keep his feet warm and fetched his old Ravenclaw jumper that was hanging on the chair. Throwing it on, he rubbed his eyes and left the room just in time for Albus to roll over on his side and start snoring again.

Scorpius balled his covers up and threw them all at him, but Al just snored on

He took the stairs down and—and froze at the sight of Hermione, Rose, Quincy, and an older woman he'd never seen before in the sitting room. On the table was a pot of coffee and Hugo's drawing of the dagger that Rose pointedly ignored. The fire kept the room warm and the four were spread across the two sofas. Hermione and Rose on one, Quincy and the stranger on the other.

He probably shouldn't think of her as a stranger as she bore a striking resemblance to Quincy.

Probably his mother, as he didn't have any siblings.

Scorpius cleared his throat, alerting them to his presence. "Good morning," he greeted carefully as he fully entered into the room, unsure of what he was walking into.

Everyone greeted him in return. Hermione pushed Rose's legs off hers, much to the latter's dismay. Ignoring her complaints, she stood and embraced him. "Happy birthday, how did you sleep?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Al wouldn't stop snoring."

Rose snickered into her coffee.

He stood between the two sofas, trying to decide on if he would sit next to Quincy or squeeze next to Rose. Hermione chuckled and sat back down, pouring him a cup of coffee. No sugar. Splash of milk. Just how he liked it.

Scorpius took the first sip and cleared away the fog of sleep.

"This is my mum," Quincy introduced.

The woman stood and shook Scorpius's hand. "Nicola Catterick."

"Pleasure, Mrs. Catterick."

"Please, call me Nicola."

Scorpius nodded. Rose made room by scooting a little closer to her mum and he took the spot next to her. "Why is everyone up so early?"

"He described Hugo's drawing to his mum last night over the Floo. She contacted my mum and here we are, awake too damn early." Rose told him bluntly. "Mum woke me up fifteen minutes ago, but I'm already planning my nap."

Coffee was no longer needed.

He was fully awake.

Both Nicola and Hermione exchanged looks before the former spoke, "What she said is correct. I was in Ireland when Quincy Fire Called me at the hotel I was staying at. Once he described the dagger, I dropped everything and left the excavation. I wasn't too far, but Hermione coordinated for me to Apparate to Malfoy Manor and then Floo over here. I only just arrived minutes ago. I saw the drawing in person knew I hadn't been too hasty in my departure—"

Scorpius frowned. "For you to rush here means it's no ordinary dagger."

"It's not," she answered him honestly.

"What is it called?" Rose asked.

"It doesn't have a name, which is probably for the best. Names can sometimes give something power and this dagger is almost sentient as is. It needs no additional power."

"Scorpius," Hermione said his name slowly. "Did you read that book on Symbiotic Magic I gave you?"

"Yes."

The wheels in his head had been turning since she'd given him the book the day before the Gala and instructed him to read it carefully. The book hadn't gone over his head, but he just wasn't interested in Theoretical Magic. It relied heavily on too many models and abstractions to explain magical phenomena and not on well-known facts. He preferred studying magic he could experiment with and ultimately prove or disprove.

Symbiotic magic was interesting, but untested and flawed. However, he had a feeling he was about to give the book a second read.

"Good." Hermione made a gesture that effectively gave the other woman the floor to speak.

"I'm a little older than your mother, Rose. When the Second War started, I was five years out of Beauxbaton and an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. I had been working in the Hall of Prophecy for two years when it was destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries." She glanced at Hermione, who was singularly focused on her pouring herself a cup of coffee.

They were familiar with the battles fought, having learned about them in History of Magic with Professor Binns. It had been awkward for Al and Rose because they'd heard first-hand accounts that couldn't be taught in class. They had lost Harry's godfather that night; Scorpius' grandfather had also been arrested. That night had changed all their lives.

Even his.

"We saved what we could in the Hall, and I was transferred to the unit that worked on cursed objects and rarities. We experimented with the magic involved in making those items in an attempt to transfer the magic to other objects or use the magic for different purposes." Quincy's mother picked up the drawing and stared at it. "The dagger used to be kept and studied in that unit, but during the chaos after Voldemort took over the Ministry, the dagger and other rarities went missing. Some were recovered, but most weren't. After the war, I made a career change so I'm not privy to what happened after I left."

"Did you work with the dagger Rose saw?" Scorpius asked.

"No, but Unspeakables have to have more than a passing knowledge on the everything kept inside the Department. After all, ignorance is deadly."

"What did their research consist of?" Quincy asked his mother, looking fascinated.

Scorpius got the impression she didn't talk about her time in the Department of Mysteries much.

"Mainly how the dagger works, its magical properties, how to manipulate it, etcetera. There was an incident in the sixties that they discussed during training. One of the researchers accidentally bonded with the dagger and it bent him to its will."

Rose spoke up. "But it's not cursed, I read through my mum's research."

"It's not." She confirmed. "We're not sure where it came from or how it was created, but we do know that it only bonds to be people on death's door. Later they found out that the researcher was dying from exposure to magical radiation from a side project of his. The dagger essentially chose him. It needs to bond or else it will starve. It's—"

"Symbiotic, in a way." Scorpius was almost in a daze. He turned to Hermione who looked rather grim as she sipped from her mug. "You highlighted reciprocal altruism. You wanted me to pay attention to it, so that means the dagger and the owner are bonded in a way that mutually benefits them both. The dagger keeps the host alive even when they're close to death and vice versa. The dagger shares the power it takes from its victims with its bonded partner to keep them strong."

Hermione confirmed with a short nod, which made Rose frown at her mother.

"_So_," Rose dragged out the word. "How much of this did you already know, mum?"

She sighed, but only answered after taking a drink from her coffee. "I had my suspicions and theories, but no hardcore facts. When Rose told me that Quincy did freelance work for the Ministry, I confirmed it with Bill, who told me that his mother was a magical archaeologist who used to work in the Department of Mysteries. When I invited him here, I was thinking more that the dagger was a lost magical relic and less about it belonging to the Department of Mysteries. There's always _one_ detail that I miss." Hermione sounded a bit sad about it.

Quincy smiled. "Happy to help anyway."

She smiled at him in return. "You've been so much help. Thank you, Quincy."

Meanwhile, Scorpius and Rose exchanged looks because sometimes her mum's ability to piece things together with very little information was _terrifying_.

"What happened to the researcher?" Scorpius asked.

Nicola picked up the drawing again and stared at it for a moment. "Over the course of a year, he stabbed ten random Department of Mysteries employees in the heart before he was caught. And it took that long to figure it out because they had no visible wounds and their bodies would deteriorate under certain magical testing. They didn't have the technology we have now."

Scorpius froze and looked at Hermione. "That's how you—"

Nodding grimly, she finished his thought. "That's why I stopped them from doing magical tests on the bodies and why I've been quickly and quietly transferring them to the Muggle Maladies department for autopsies. The entire ward is a dead zone for magic. St. Mungo's has hired Squib Pathologists to run the necessary tests. It's how we discovered their hearts were damaged despite the fact that their bodies were not."

"How did they catch him?" Quincy asked, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"He got sloppy, or maybe the dagger got greedy, we're not sure. The studies were inconclusive, but the dagger can only feed on a person's magic if they're stabbed in the heart."

"Why the heart?" Rose asked.

"We never figured that out. The research on the dagger is scattered, at best."

She didn't like the answer, but nodded with understanding. "And the incantation?"

"I'm not sure."

Rose was almost vibrating. He took the cup of coffee from her hands and sat it on the table while her mother put a hand on her knee in an attempt to quell her anxiety. Her hand found his and she laced their fingers together and held on tight. Scorpius looked at her, but she was looking down, deep in thought.

"He was ultimately caught when a victim fought back. He ended up chasing her into a section of the Department of Mysteries that was a dead zone for magic. He stabbed her and missed her heart, but didn't know that and left her there. She would have died, but she was found, and she identified him. The more the dagger is used, the stronger the person who is bonded to it becomes. With that being said, it took a combined effort from the Auror Department and the Department of Mysteries to bring him down because he'd gotten far too powerful. He died exactly one year after they separated him from the dagger because the bond was broken by distance. The incident became a teaching topic and one of the department's many dirty secrets."

It was silent until Quincy breathed, "_Bloody hell._"

Nicola put the drawing on the table face-down. "Rose."

She looked up, face incredibly pale. "Yes?"

"I'm not certain how long this person has been bonded to the dagger, but the fight you were in was not a fair one. Either they haven't been bonded long or the dagger hasn't completely warped their mind yet. They had every opportunity to kill you, but they didn't."

"Somehow," she chuckled almost hysterically. "I don't find that very comforting."

Rose's default had always been sarcasm.

Hermione turned to her daughter. "The Department of Mysteries answers to no one, not even to the Minister, so we're on our own. Quincy's mother wants to make a statement about what she knows to the DMLE, but we can't compel The Department of Mysteries to comply with our investigation or even admit to the truth."

"At least her statement will be able to help the hospital guard the patients and—"

"Forget the bet," her mother said abruptly. "We'll call it a draw. You don't have to go back."

Rose frowned and said something he—_nor her mother_—expected.

"I'm _not_ running from this," she said lowly; her voice laced with a fire he hadn't heard from her. "I _won't_ run for this, even though all I want to do is take the out that you're giving me. What if what happened to me happens to someone else? Someone like Jane? Someone without a family like ours? What then?"

"The DMLE will handle it, I promise." Hermione pressed on after a short pause. "But this is far bigger than you or any of us, and you're too involved. This person _knows_ _you_, Rose. They've seen your face. They know your name. It's not over, no matter what you think. They let you live. And while I'm thankful for it, the reason why _terrifies_ me."

"Mum—"

Hermione's voice was thick with emotion. "I know that I'm ultimately the blame for this. I pushed you into the fire when I got you this job, and it's quickly become my biggest regret."

Rose tried to comfort her the only way she knew how: with a joke. "I've got dad's rotten luck, you know that."

Her mother chuckled, but it lacked humour. "It seems that no matter how much we protect you; you've still managed to find trouble. Or maybe it found you. It doesn't matter. When it comes down to it, you are _far_ more important to me than a bloody bet, Rose."

"Mum," she put her hand on top of Hermione's, which was still resting on her leg. "_It's okay._"

Scorpius spoke up. "With Nicola's statement, it will help everyone understand what to look for and what we're dealing with. You may get the attention of the Department of Mysteries. They may assist, after all, they may want their dagger back."

Hermione looked at him first, then at her daughter; her scepticism was almost palpable.

"I'm not alone, mum," Rose told her. "I've got Scorpius and Al. I've got Jane and Quincy. I've got the full force of our entire family _and_ Scorpius's dad. I'll get through this Inquiry whenever it happens and I'll get cleared to go back to work. I'll be careful, I promise, but I'm not going to quit. I've finally found something I don't hate. I like working for Lavender. I like what I do. Is it something I want to do forever? I'm not certain, but for here and now, I'd like to stay."

"Rose…" her mother sighed.

"By the time I return, everyone should have been briefed and security should be on high alert. Uncle Harry has been giving me duelling lessons so if anything happens, I'll be better prepared. Now that we know better, we can do better. They'll find whoever it is and the entire combined force of the hospital and the DMLE and perhaps the Department of Mysteries will rain down on them. The dagger will go back and we'll call it a job well done because it won't be _our_ problem anymore. Then, I'm going to take a damn nap and eat enough carbs to turn _into_ one."

Hermione chuckled. "Really, Rose? Until you turn into one?"

"It'll be _brilliant_."

Rose's plan seemed a little too simple to work, and judging from the look on her mother's, she agreed. But she wasn't going to say anything.

And neither would he.

Mrs. Weasley was known for her excellent timing and came into the sitting room, humming a tune and wearing her breakfast apron.

"Oh, people!" She spotted the only person in the room she didn't know. "I'm Molly Weasley."

"This is my mum." Quincy introduced. His mother stood, smiling brightly.

As the two women shook hands, Nicola complimented her home. Rose rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, yawning. He shifted a little to make sure she was comfortable and looked up to find Hermione looking at the two of them fondly. He didn't have time to react because Mrs. Weasley announced, "It's Scorpius' birthday today. I'm making all his favourites, if you want to stay for breakfast." Her eyes landed on them and she smiled. "Rose, love, go take a kip before breakfast. Okay?"

To which dragged herself to her feet and stretched, turning her head from side to side.

Scorpius watched her.

Rose slipped past Mrs. Weasley, who was busy rattling off everyone who was coming. Bill and Fleur, Teddy and Victoire. George and Angelina. Harry and Ginny. Ron. Al, Lily and Jane, who were upstairs sleeping. James, but not Matilda. She mentioned Henrietta, who he hadn't known was set to come to breakfast.

His father's arrival interrupted her.

He stepped out the fireplace, looking around. He wore casual clothes and Hermione greeted him from her spot with a wave and a '_we have plenty to discuss_' look that his dad gave a short nod to in response before his gaze fell on him.

Scorpius stood and accepted the hug his father offered. "Happy birthday, son."

And though his mind was racing with everything they'd learned, he smiled. "Thanks dad."

* * *

Scorpius had no idea what to expect for a Lily Potter party, but he knew one thing: there were _a lot_ more than sixty people crammed in the room, that was for certain.

The party was in high gear when they walked in. The room was decorated with silver and Ravenclaw blue balloons that covered the entire length of the ceiling. Tables lined the walls of the room, but there weren't many people sitting. The lights were dim and the DJ was playing a song he didn't exactly care for, but the people on the dance floor seemed to enjoy.

He figured that would be the statement of his evening.

Next to him, Rose looked around as she fiddled with her dress—_that she'd worn_ _voluntarily_. He was still confused by the sight of her, but she looked very much like herself in an almost knee-length black dress with white polka dots. She had on black tights and boots. Jane left her hair down, but her curls were managed.

For the moment, at least.

"This looks like every nightmare I had as a child." Rose said grimly.

Silently, he agreed, as he frowned distastefully at two strangers snogging in the corner.

Rose noticed them as well. "Why are they—so _this_ is what hell looks like. I'm glad your grandmother isn't here." Her tone turned incredibly posh. "She'd need to be revived with smelling salts from the sheer indignities happening all around us."

And though Rose was joking, she wasn't wrong. He quietly wondered where his grandmother was or how Lily managed to convince her to leave them be. Whatever she'd done, it was likely for the best. Scorpius looked away, but it seemed that each sight offended him more than the previous. From the gyrating bodies on the dance floor to the snogging couples to the bubbles pouring from the DJ's booth.

"The only way out of hell is—"

"Through it," he finished.

Rose nudged him. "If you stay for an hour, I'll cover for you with Lily, but you'll owe me."

"Name it." Because he wasn't above making a deal and Rose wasn't either.

"Two movies, my choice, and—"

Scorpius groaned because of her terrible her taste was in movies.

"Oi!" she hit him in the arm. "_And_ you to get rid of the Howlers in my flat."

That was far easier than he expected, movies aside. "Deal."

They shook on it.

He hated house parties because they were loud and intrusive and the music was never right; there were far too many people and they cared too much about their appearance. He could hardly think with all the noise. Scorpius didn't mind the rave because he'd walked in knowing he wasn't going to be the centre of attention.

Tonight was different.

Al and Quincy dragged Jane and Rose into the crowd in an attempt to find somewhere to sit. Scorpius followed at a slower pace because he kept getting stopped by strangers greeting him and wishing him a happy birthday. Some even had small cameras and asked to take a picture with him. It was overwhelming, but he was on duty tonight and obliged, though the tension in his shoulders almost weighed him down.

Alas, he didn't need another reason to end up in the papers.

When the crowd spit him out, Rose was the only one sitting at the table in the corner. Because where else would she be?

She was indulging in finger food, looking around as if she were expecting Lily to jump out and shove a plate of vegetables in her face. Next to her sat two shots of what looked like Firewhisky.

He indulged himself with one because he'd need it if he was going to make it through the night.

And he welcomed the burn.

"They're both for you," Rose told him as she turned in her seat towards him, smoothing down her dress carefully. He sat down next to her, but turned in his chair to face her. Their knees touched and Rose eyed him carefully. "You've been wound a bit tight most of the day."

Scorpius didn't deny it. They'd spend the late morning anonymously roaming around Camden Park with Al, Quincy, and Jane. The early afternoon was spent at a pub having lunch and beers like normal people, which was fun. And they'd spent the late afternoon watching the sun set at Sky Garden. The name had been misleading, but the view of London had been spectacular. He'd had fun, but as the day went on, a restlessness settled over him. Scorpius would have been perfectly content if breakfast and their day out had been the only thing that he'd done to celebrate his birthday, but it wasn't.

He remembered their agreement and knocked back the second Firewhisky.

_Gods_, it burned far worse than the first. It made him clear his throat.

"Where is everyone?" He placed his elbow on the table and looked around, trying to look relaxed.

It wasn't working.

"Al and Jane went to dance…or jump around. Whichever." She bit back a smile. "Lily found us and she dragged Quincy off to look for you."

Scorpius groaned.

Rose patted his arm in understanding. "She's a pest, but—_nope_, full stop. She's a pest."

He cracked a smile.

Scorpius was about to say something else when someone approached them. She had short, dark hair and looked a little too posh for the setting. Likely one of his mother's invites. "Scorpius Malfoy?"

He confirmed it with a look. "And you are?"

"Matilda Nott." She introduced herself. "Our fathers went to school together."

_Great._

"This is Rose Weasley," he gestured.

Rose had a mouthful of food and only waved.

"Pleasure." And it sounded fake even to his ears. "I was wondering if you wanted a drink." She smiled boldly. "I'll even let you ask me to dance."

"No thanks."

He was about to continue talking to Rose when she asked, "Are the rumours true?"

Rose stopped chewing and cut her eyes at him in a way that said, _'handle it before I do.'_

No one wanted her version of _'handling it'_.

There would be hexes and they would be in the papers for a completely different reason.

Before he could say anything else, Matilda chuckled. "Really? Her? She's got food on her face." Scorpius looked, and sure enough, she had a bit of sauce on the corner of her mouth. Rose wiped it off with her thumb…that she jammed into her mouth. Waste not. "She's _nothing_—"

"Just know that _Nothing_ isn't above throwing Bat Bogey hexes at a damn birthday party." Rose's tone was light, but her glare was hard. "Please consider that a threat _and_ a promise."

She left quickly.

And while she was the first to approach their table, Matilda wasn't the last.

People—_strangers_—kept approaching them for one asinine reason after the next. Some asked questions and others blatantly took their photo as they walked by, but majority were witches who tried to get his attention. They were worse than the media. After about forty minutes of stopping witch after witch from speaking ill about Rose _to her face_ or listening to them speculate about the rumours surrounding them, he was over being polite for the sake of obligation. Rose was as well—if her increasingly aggressive comebacks had said anything.

Quincy returned without Lily, but with a small tray with seven small Firewhisky shots that the three of them split unevenly.

Not enough to do harm to their sobriety, but enough to maybe loosen them up.

Quincy had three because Lily stressed him out. Rose had three because that was her limit and she was trying not to pull a _Carrie_—whatever that meant. And he had one because that was all left.

When Quincy sat the empty tray down on the table, he offered his arm to Rose, who still looked perturbed. "Do you want to dance?"

She frowned. "I'm not in the mood."

"Pretty sure dancing will make you feel better once the Firewhisky kicks in."

"The music is shit."

"You're just going to do the robot anyway."

She thought about it for a moment. "True."

Rose eyed Scorpius, not really asking for permission, but to let him know he should go while he could.

When he nodded, Rose accepted Quincy's arm, but only after shoving him hard enough to make him stumble. "You're a mean drunk, Rose."

"I'm _not_ drunk. A couple of small drinks hardly equates to a loss of sobriety."

Quincy eyed her. "Are you going to battle linguistics with me?"

"No, but if we don't go soon, I'm going to leave you with your zealots."

He thought about it for a second and pulled her into the crowd. Scorpius stayed just long enough to make sure the coast was clear before he made his way to the exit.

* * *

No matter where he went, he could feel the bass from the speakers in the ballroom, so he gave up searching for a quiet spot and ended up the small sitting room down the hall. Scorpius started the fire with a flick of his wand and summoned the book on Symbiotic Magic that he'd left at the Manor after finishing.

He caught the book in one hand and opened it up to the first page.

Scorpius was four chapters in when he heard the door creak open, but didn't look up. He was leaned forward, making notes on the parchment he'd found on one of the shelves. A throat cleared and he looked over to find Rose standing there with her hands on her hips.

"Lily's looking for you," and looked terribly put out about it. "She wants to sing Happy Birthday to you. I tried, but she's not taking _piss off_ for an answer anymore."

He cringed.

"My sentiments exactly. I'm only here because there's a cake and I want it. I was content to let you hide."

"You'd turn me in for cake?" he half-joked.

Rose just looked at him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She just smiled. It looked a bit manic. A few moment later, Rose sat down next to him, peering at his notes. "Are you really re-reading that book my mum gave you?"

"I thought with everything we found out this morning that it would warrant a second read."

"That's true," she got comfortable next to him, crossing her legs at the knee. "To be honest, I haven't thought about any of it because it's a lot to take in. It's a bit overwhelming, actually."

Scorpius snorted in agreement, and used his wand to bookmark the page he'd been reading.

"Did you mean what you said to your mother? About not wanting to quit?"

Rose looked at him. Her eyes were honest and as he had that morning, he believed her when she said, "I can hardly believe it myself, but yes. Honestly, it has very little to do with the job itself. I enjoy it, but with this going on, I wouldn't feel right. You work there and Jane does too, not to mention Al told me they're talking about letting him join the St. Mungo's team now that my mum isn't over it." Rose frowned. "There are too many people I care about getting tangled up in this mess for me to sit and watch from the stands."

"You care about Jane?" He hadn't intended to ask the question, but found himself curious about the answer.

"She's so damn happy all the time and it's annoying, but she's…my friend." Rose sounded equally as fond and put out, which he found funny. "All joking aside, I'm _still_ trying to figure out how _that_ shit happened."

Rose didn't make friends easy.

"Maybe it was the day she shared her sandwich with me because I said I liked roast beef…" she mused. "Or maybe when she talked like Yoda for five full minutes." Rose smiled at the memory. "Probably that."

Eventually, her smile faded and she sobered, and he did as well. For a long while, they were quiet together as the bass from the speakers at the party went on. As the silence stretched, Rose seemed to slip back into the pensive mood she'd been in for days. However, the quiet between them wasn't the sort where Scorpius felt the need to fill it with questions about her mood. She would tell him what was bothering her eventually.

Scorpius sat back and Rose shifted closer, leaning against him and resting her head against his shoulder like she'd done that morning.

No different than usual.

There was peace between them and Scorpius wasn't sure who it came from. It _certainly_ hadn't come from him, but it left him feeling very still, inside and out. In the tranquillity where the music thumped in the background, he found himself once again wanting to rewind time as he tried to deduce her sentiments.

It seemed the only time he wanted to think about her was when she was in front of him.

What her father had said about her was true, all of it, but it was everything Scorpius liked about her. Rose was an agent of chaos, unpredictable and did everything her own way—whether right or wrong. Her greatest weapon had always been her mind, and when necessary, Rose would show just a _hint_ of its strength, but not enough for there to be expectations of her. With a mind like hers, even in school, Scorpius had expected that she would know _everything_—her place and purpose in everything—like her mother.

But she just _didn't_.

And neither did he.

Scorpius, despite his love for organisation and his expert level of composure, still didn't have all the answers. He was just turning twenty-one, but still waffled and stirred like he did at eighteen.

At seventeen.

At sixteen.

At fifteen.

_Especially_ when it came to her.

"My mum's about to be appointed Minister." Rose said it as if she were telling him the weather.

Scorpius found that all he could say was: "Oh."

"Yeah."

And he understood her mood for the last few days.

Rose wanted to be normal. It was something they'd discussed at great length when they were teenagers trying to figure out their place in their world. Honestly, even without her mother's status, she would never be normal. He'd met a lot of people, knew a lot of women, and dated more than enough witches, but he'd yet to stumble upon one that was _anything_ like Rose.

"How do you feel about it?" Scorpius asked carefully.

"I'm happy for her, but it's complicated. I haven't had a moment to think about it. It's all been about this damn dagger." Rose sounded frustrated enough to sit up, then stand and cross the room to the bookshelf where she ran her fingers along each book on the row.

Scorpius stood as well, though he didn't know why.

"My mum can't be involved, which is why she left me her research. It looks bad when the future Minister's daughter is the centre of a murder investigation…as the suspect. I think that's why the Cauldwell is aiming at me so hard." Rose sighed and the weariness in it was real. "I told her not to block it. There is enough evidence to prove I'm not the killer, but I am a witness, in a way. So, I told her to let them question me again in a formal Inquiry. I don't want favouritism."

He said nothing.

"I just…" Her second sigh told him a bit of her true level of stress and worry. "I just want this dagger to be found, the person to be arrested, and things to go back to some version of normal. Perhaps then I can begin to process the fact that my mum—who once set fire to my dad's old Quidditch uniform in a fit of rage—is about the be one of the most powerful people in Wizarding Europe."

Scorpius joined her at the bookshelf, but her back was to him.

"I suppose the rumours don't help," he said lightly.

Rose turned around; her face a mix of several things that he couldn't interpret. It made him want to study her. Lately, he'd seen faces and emotions that he couldn't read—or hadn't noticed—and all he could do was wonder when had _that_ happened. Rose was notoriously private about things that truly bothered her, but he knew for a fact that she had opened up to him more than she had to Albus.

Not everything, but some.

"No, it doesn't." Rose said slowly. "But I don't give a damn about the rumours or what people say about me. I never have. You know that."

He did.

She looked down at her boots. "I just care about how the rumours are affecting you. I know they are. You've read every article in every publication; seen every picture. I know you argued with your mum about her issuing denials. You think I didn't notice?"

No, he didn't think she had. His only comfort was that she hadn't noticed the right thing.

Rose had been in her own planet for days, and he just orbited around her like a satellite. Every now and then, he'd wobble close, feel the initial pull of her gravity, but move away before he got trapped. And he had been content with it at the time because he was busy trying to figure her out.

Now Scorpius wasn't so sure.

It felt strange to know that all along, she'd noticed and watched when he wasn't paying attention.

"That photo isn't real."

Scorpius wasn't sure which one she was talking about.

"It was just a well-timed picture of us before I broke your nose."

Oh, _that_ one.

"Honestly, it aggravates me that there's been so much attention on something so meaningless. I wish the media would just leave us alone, but because they have nothing better to talk about, they won't."

That was true.

"I hate that I can't go anywhere or do anything without someone trying to take my photo or some journalist hag asking me about the rumours. Having this party was the _worst_ fucking idea Lily has ever had and I should have fought her harder about it." Rose said hotly. He could tell her anger was situational and not directed at anyone. She was merely ranting. "If one more person tests me tonight, I _swear_ I'll bring this entire Manor down around us. If one more person calls me—"

"I thought you don't care what they say about you."

Rose's rant stalled and she looked over at him, face in a deep frown. "People have said _far_ worse about me, but what they're doing is questioning _your_ judgment. You don't deserve that."

"It'll all die down soon anyway. It always does."

She looked down at her hands that were balled up.

"Well, it needs to _hurry up and die_ because I've got too much shit going on to care about something as bloody stupid as rumours. Who _cares_ if our mouths touched? Big fucking deal! It wasn't even a real bloody kiss. It was just a picture taken when our mouths were like this."

Rose pushed up on her feet and pressed their mouths together.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Except that it wasn't followed by blood and pain.

Rose jerked back before he could process what had happened.

"_Oh,_" she whispered, eyes still locked on him.

What did that even _mean_?

Her hands went to his shoulders to keep her balance as she searched his face. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but Scorpius wondered if Rose was looking for the same thing he'd been searching for since he'd been confronted by the impossible question. But her face remained unreadable, closed-off and private. He briefly wondered what would happen if he took the perfect opportunity in front of him.

And before he could analyse the entire situation to death, he did just that.

It was the single most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life.

His hand went to her neck, cupping it as he leaned in, mouth hovering over hers. He made sure to keep his touch as gentle as possible. Part of him was hesitant, a larger part was bloody _terrified_, but the majority of him fell into kissing her once Scorpius asked for the permission Rose granted by _not_ _punching him in the face_ when he pressed his mouth to hers.

Rose kissed very much like who she was as a person: without abandon or restraint, but so damn _scattered_ that initially he gripped her shoulders to keep her from stepping back into the bookshelf. She kissed as if she had never flown before; exhilarated by the dips and dives and formations, but knowing she would _never_ get on another broom again…so she had to make it count.

And though he had initiated it, all Scorpius could do was hold on tight and go where she wanted to take them; move with her, touch her. Her skin was warm; she felt like _fire_ burning against him and it was too much. Her kisses became hard, frenzied, demanding; a crush of lips and a bit of teeth. Rose had always been tactile, but was unsure of where to put her hands so she put them _everywhere_. She fisted his jumper and ran up his back against the fabric. They were in his hair and one curled behind his neck. All his senses were in overdrive and he couldn't_ take it_.

But when Rose broke away just enough to change the angle and take off his glasses, tossing them somewhere, Scorpius grasped the chance to douse water on her flames and take control.

Change the tempo.

Slow her.  
Guide her.  
_Teach her._

He cupped her face and his lips grazed hers once, then twice. He took his time, opening her up, giving himself the opportunity to learn a completely new side of her. And when she tried to make demands—when she tried to return to the frenzy—Scorpius nipped her lip, nearly _hissing_ when Rose dragged her hands down his back. It was heady, a rush he hadn't experienced before or expected, but didn't allow her to overrule his good sense. So, he kept the tempo he created; caressing her mouth with his, making the kiss deeper and slower until she understood that she wasn't in control anymore.

And she relented.

"_Breathe_," Scorpius murmured, unsure if he was talking to her or himself.

Everything else was silent, except for the bass rattling from the party and their ragged breathing as they gripped each other like a buoy. He kept his eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together, noses touching, until he decided to search her face. She was close enough for him to see without glasses and Scorpius wondered if his face was as open and honest and _raw_ as he felt. He wondered if she could see everything that he kept quiet.

But then Rose kissed him. It was gentle and almost tentative, drained of the impatient frenzy from before. He thought of it as a do-over; as if she were testing out the waters on her own. But Rose's hand came to his cheek, keeping the slow drag of lips that he'd established before and, well…it was enough to silence all thoughts; stop his analysis. His hands moved to her lower back, not too low, but damn if she didn't just _arch into him_, making a noise that shot white hot electricity down his spine.

It had no translation, yet he understood it perfectly.

_Gods._

It took all his willpower not to _lose himself _in everything he was feeling; to fill himself to the brim with the emotions he had tried so hard to keep buried.

If it hurt later, then that was later and this was now. It was worth any kind of pain

Rose drew in a gasping breath and released it, hands shaking. Scorpius went right back to her mouth, continuing the build, the slow climb. Where were they going? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that it went go on and on. He lost track of it as they drifted, breaking apart for air, but never truly parting. It was just an endless feeling of their lips moving together, slow and languid, but the heat he thought he'd doused was still there. There was just a hint of her tongue brushing against his; her hands everywhere on him and his hands steady on her. Scorpius wondered how much he could stand before—

The sound of books—_multiple books_—hitting the hardwood brought them out of their haze.

He and Rose looked over at the books that had fallen, up to where they'd fallen from, and finally at each other. For some inexplicable reason, they started laughing uncontrollably, clutching their sides; all tension completely gone. Scorpius had no clue why he found it so hysterical and was sure Rose didn't either as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Where are my glasses?" His voice sounded strangled to him.

Rose found them on the floor next to the armchair. They were, miraculously, _not _broken.

While Scorpius checked for scratches, Rose picked the books up, handing them to him once he was ready to take them.

One by one, they silently worked until each book was put back in its proper place.

Scorpius attempted to fix his hair without much success; Rose's was hopeless. He hadn't realised his hands had been in her hair at one point, but figured she could easily blame it on the crowded party and her flush on the heat of the room. Perhaps he could blame his on that, too. Her lips were moist and red and she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"We should go before Lily stabs me with the cake knife."

He was only half-prepared for her answer, but asked the question anyway: "Are you okay?"

"Yep," Rose waved her hand so casually it looked lazy and carefree. "That was _nothing_." She smoothed down her hair in a wasted effort and started to the door.

As they walked back to the party, Scorpius kept his eyes on Rose as the remaining pieces of the puzzle he had been working on fit together. He kept his face carefully blank and replied to her pointless argument about how muffins were cake in a way that wouldn't make her suspicious.

First: muffins were _not_ cake.

Second: he had the answer he'd been looking for all week.

Because her response to his question had been a lie. And how did he know?

It was simple.

Rose had a tell.

* * *

It was almost dawn when they returned to the Burrow.

The party had been heralded as a success by Lily, even though when they sang Happy Birthday, more than half the attendees butchered his name in their inebriation…or ignorance, perhaps.

Not that it really mattered.

Scorpius spent the rest of the party surrounded by his inner circle of friends; the ten Al had listed to invite. He found himself enjoying cake with Rose, talking to Teddy and James, arguing with Henrietta who had showed up very late, laughing with his roommates from Hogwarts over their Ravenclaw hijinks, dancing with Victoire and Jane, drinking with Al and Quincy. By the time he realised it was late, hours had passed and most of the attendees had already left. Lily went back to her flat after making sure everything was sorted by the House-elves.

"Where do I put her?" Quincy asked, casually adjusting a snoring Rose in his arms.

Albus snapped his fingers in front of his sleeping cousin's face and whistled lowly. "She's _completely_ pissed. She's going to be done for tomorrow."

Rose's relationship with alcohol was complicated. She'd instilled a three-drink limit after a regretful snog with an ex-boyfriend of her roommates during a party Sixth Year. She stuck to that limit faithfully…until that night when she blew right past it after eating three pieces of birthday cake.

James had produced three bottles of Ogden's. The group finished one together, the second was currently in Al's hand, but Victoire, Rose, and Jane had finished the third on their own. They'd gone from chatting and drinking to laughing at everything meaningless and dancing the night away like the best of friends. Teddy had all but carried Victoire, who was declaring her love for life and everyone, to the Floo just before they'd come back, and Jane…

Well, she showed no signs of being intoxicated outside her flushed cheeks and cheerful giggles.

Scorpius was still puzzled.

Al was absolutely _amazed_.

"Bring her upstairs, I'll get her situated." Jane told Quincy merrily, but stopped and made a sad face. "Oh, _no_. I didn't bring anything to help with hangovers. I don't get them much. Or at all, actually."

"I think I have something," Quincy told her and all was right and well in Jane's world again. Together, he and Al watched as she grinned and led the way out the room. They listened to her and Quincy's chatter and the sound of their steps echoing until they were out of earshot.

"Good birthday?" Al asked, clapping him on the back.

Scorpius nodded. "But I'm not really tired."

Al shook the remainder of the nearly full bottle of Ogden's in his hand and grinned. "Want to finish it?"

That was how they found themselves outside not too long later, passing the bottle back and forth—because Al was too lazy to get cups and Scorpius didn't feel like arguing. They sat in front of the fire he'd started out back with a quick flourish of his wand. It was cold enough for warming charms, but not windy so the flames stayed contained. Quincy joined them almost twenty minutes later, sitting on the bench next to Al. He declined the Firewhisky offered and produced his wand.

"How's Rose?" Albus asked as Quincy set his own warming charm.

"Jane got her up to drink some water and a potion." He shrugged a bit. "She had her all taken care of, so I left her to it."

Al thought about it for a moment. "I don't think I've ever seen her that pissed before."

Quincy looked confused. "She's not much of a drinker?"

"Not really." Al took another drink from the bottle. "She has rules."

He passed the bottle to Scorpius, who held it before taking a sip. He wasn't intoxicated, but had been teetering through the stages of inebriation all evening and was currently at the point where the Ogden's didn't burn. Ah, just past his own limit then…and Scorpius wasn't interested in stopping just yet. He'd started drinking at the party earlier with their kiss—_snog_, if he was being honest with himself—on his mind, but decided to store it away until the next day when he was sober enough to truly process what had transpired.

Whereas Al was cheery, loud, and extremely personable under Firewhisky's influence, Scorpius was an exaggerated version of himself. Quiet and introspective still, but far more casual. He'd taken on an almost permanent flush during the course of the evening and his glasses refused to stay straight. He smiled some, laughed a lot, but spoke less as the Ogden's worked on him. He and Al had been passing the bottle between them for half an hour now, so he was barely listening to their conversation. His defences were almost too low.

He was amongst friends, after all.

So, Scorpius wasn't the least bit prepared when Albus casually bumped his shoulder and said, "I wonder if she broke her rule after snogging Scorpius."

And nearly _choked_, coughing and sputtering; tears forming in his eyes as Firewhisky shot out his mouth and nose. Gracelessly, he spat the rest on the ground next to him and wiped his face. Al only patted his back, hard, while he recovered. He didn't look the least bit sorry. The bastard. Quincy, on the other hand, looked extremely intrigued, accepting the bottle Al had handed to him as he waited patiently for him to stop _choking to death_.

In his current state, Scorpius couldn't have the nervous breakdown he was owed and that was probably a good thing. However, he could hardly string two conscious thoughts together or say anything to divert the conversation away from him.

Not that it stopped him from trying. "I didn't—we didn't—"

Albus just gave him a look that he knew all too well.

He was doomed to have a chat about a topic he didn't want to think about until he was sober.

Because Al was his best friend and knew him better than anyone. He was also was perceptive when he felt like it.

Still, Scorpius managed to ask, "Um, how—"

"Wait, so it's _true_?" Quincy blurted out. He took a drink from the bottle and when Al reached for it, he gave it back with his full attention still on Scorpius. "_Bloody_—"

"Did you figure that out?" he lamely finished his question.

The Ogden's wouldn't allow him to panic.

Al leaned back on his bench. "It was obvious, to me at least, so don't worry." Scorpius audibly exhaled at that. "I know you both well. You were flushed and dazed and she didn't look much better. Your clothes were out of place." He reached over and tugged Scorpius' jumper where the stitching was no longer right. "Also, her hair was _not_ like that when she left and neither was yours."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Wait." Quincy sounded almost excited. "So, what happened?"

"Um." Scorpius lowered his hands and looked at his best friend.

"Look, as much as I _don't_ want to hear about my cousin being snogged into alcoholism, you'd better start talking."

It was awkward and he found himself stuttering a bit, probably from the Firewhisky, but Scorpius told them what happened and left out certain details and conversation topics. Mainly about her mother's new position because it wasn't just the two of them out there. Al listened patiently, as always. He didn't interrupt, nor did he ask for extra details like Quincy, but he drank a good bit of the Ogden's.

Which made sense, after all.

Scorpius was not impulsive nor did he ever do anything he deemed foolish, but his actions had been a direct contrast of his character. However, as Scorpius narrated, strangely enough, he felt no pangs of regret or embarrassment. The awkwardness came more from the fact that he was talking to Al about his _cousin_.

But kissing her…well, the timing hadn't been great, with everything going on, and later he'd regret that. Maybe, in the light of a new day, he would also wince about the fact that he'd left himself open and exposed to her. Perhaps he would overanalyse every damn _moment of it_ once the Ogden's wore off and the sun rose.

But right then, the tension Scorpius had been carrying for what seemed like _years_ was…gone.

Just like that.

And Albus, despite his drinking, looked proud. "I'm shocked you actually went for it, mate."

He was too, if he was being honest with himself.

"So," Quincy leaned forward a bit, looking at him curiously. "What now?"

"I'm going to wait."

Quincy looked at him as if he were a complete idiot. "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard. What you need to do is when she gets started on her research in the library, go in there, close the door, and just—"

Scorpius laughed, but there wasn't much humour in it. "You _obviously_ don't know Rose."

He only shrugged in response. "Maybe not, but I know women. And—"

"Has she once done _anything_ a normal woman would do around you?" Al asked dryly.

Quincy thought about it, and drank a bit of Ogden's before he waggled his eyebrows. "Well, if Rose were _a normal witch_, it wouldn't take much effort on my part for her to let me shag—"

"_Oi!_" Al and Scorpius said simultaneously.

The former pulled at his dark hair in frustration. "Fucking hell, Quincy! I'd like to get through this conversation with my sanity intact. She's _still my cousin_."

He just shrugged innocently, and started to drink a little before Al snatched the bottle away.

"No more for you!"

Scorpius almost laughed, but the beginnings of a headache crept along the base of his skull and it made him stop. He turned his head from side to side to make it go away, but it refused to leave him alone. It was probably time for another drink. He reached for the bottle in Al's hand and drank a few swallows before handing it back.

"Okay, sorry mate." He shoved Al a bit in apology, then looked over at Scorpius. It took him a full minute to choose his next words carefully. "She's…you know, I tried to chat her up when we first met, right?"

Scorpius nodded.

He'd seen him talking to her at the New Year's Party, then when they showed up to the rave. There may have been a twinge of jealousy at the rave, and perhaps a little more when they had lunch with his father after her attack, but there hadn't been any hard feelings since the Gala.

Quincy shrugged a bit awkwardly as he scratched behind his ear. "Well, I tried to ask her to the rave as proper dates, but she looked at me as if I were some special sort of idiot before she shut me down. Not the reaction I would have gotten from anyone else. I spent an hour with a bruised ego, wondering if I still—" He thought about it then grinned deviously. "The twins helped me realise that I've still got it."

Al looked intrigued. "Twins?"

"_Twins_." Quincy nodded, giving him a knowing look as his grin grew wider.

Scorpius groaned. "Don't worry about me, I'll just throw myself in this damn fire."

Al and Quincy laughed.

He was a little irritated by them both. "Are you two finished?"

When they stopped laughing, his best friend handed Quincy the bottle. He took a drink and said, "Well, at least _now_ I know why nothing I tried on Rose ever worked."

Albus snorted. "Mate, trust me when I say, _nothing_ would have worked on her. Intentional or not, she won't let anyone closer than she wants them to be, if that makes any sense."

That was true.

"She'll argue you down about every mundane topic on Earth, but when you approach her with something that hits too close to home or something that's too personal, she'll just—_Rose her way out of it_." And Al waved his hands around in an attempt to describe the indescribable.

"What the hell does that mean?" Quincy asked.

Scorpius shook his head. "We _still_ have no idea."

"Some sort of verbal gymnastics Rose does when she doesn't want to talk about something. Sometimes she starts random debates about stupid topics that make no sense." Al accepted the bottle back from Quincy and took a swig. "Just know that during First Year, we yelled at each other for almost an hour over the difference between a square and a fucking _rectangle_ because Rose didn't want to confess that she was homesick."

Quincy looked confused, but vastly amused. "You're _joking_."

Actually, he wasn't. After all, they'd argued about whether muffins were considered cake to avoid the topic of their kiss.

Whether water could be classified as wet to avoid discussing her argument with his mother.

And so many other silly things to avoid all sorts of things Rose didn't want to discuss. She'd rather fight than be honest with something she intended to keep private.

"No, I'm not, and I've got a million stories just like that one." Al shrugged and handed Quincy the Ogden's. "She's…not going to react well if pushed or cornered, so your idea for him to just go in there and corner her into talking about her feelings won't work. She's intensely private about anything that makes her uncertain. She doesn't like being caught off guard. From time to time, she'll give me a little glimpse, but I never know what the hell is going on in her head outside of the mundane." Albus looked at him. "Scorpius here might have a better idea, his access code to Rose is a little different from mine…"

"It is not," he mumbled.

Al didn't look convinced. "Keep telling yourself that, mate."

"So…" Quincy wondered aloud. "Has she ever had a proper boyfriend?"

Scorpius almost choked on air again.

Al absently patted his back, but answered Quincy's question. "_Plenty_, but Rose told me once she's got no idea how relationships worked outside of the telly and fiction. To be fair, we don't have many examples of what normal relationships look like—ones that aren't born from war." He thought about it. "Well, our grandparents, but they also started in a war…" he shrugged half-heartedly.

Scorpius looked at his best friend.

"Our parents don't make sense on any parchment." Al was unusually honest and he blamed that on the Ogden's. "They love each other, but their stories didn't teach any of us anything about how normal relationships work. James won't commit longer than a few months. Lily's looking for an idealistic fantasy where someone sweeps her off her feet, but nothing based in reality. I'm still trying to figure it out, and Rose is emotionally oblivious."

Quincy looked at Scorpius. "Are you sure about Rose? She's _brilliant_, but she sounds like work. Hard work."

"I have no room to judge." Scorpius leaned back on his bench.

They all were functionally dysfunctional.

He was certain it was the Ogden's that made him speak honestly, but didn't stop himself. "My mother has a blood disease that manifested when I was born. My dad poured so much money into researching her disease in hopes for a cure. When I was seven, they developed a treatment, but the Healers told her that even with it, she wouldn't live to see me graduate from Hogwarts. So, my mother decided that she'd rather live her life to the fullest rather than—" Scorpius stared at the fire. "I don't know what a normal relationship is, my parents _certainly_ aren't, but…" he trailed off, looking down at his hands. "I don't care about normal. I'm not _looking_ for normal." He was starting to get frustrated. "I just—"

"Do you have a plan?" Al asked quietly, looking oddly sober for someone who had been in the Firewhisky as much as he had.

Scorpius had already calculated all the odds and every angle long before tonight. He'd have to tweak his equations later, but overall, he did have a strategy. The probability of success was a completely different matter altogether because Rose had always been the exception to most rules.

He ran his hand through his hair in a display of frustration and answered his best friend's question as best as he could, "Yes, but not a solid one with a high chance of success."

"Then drink up, mate." Quincy handed Scorpius the bottle. "It sounds like you're in for a very convoluted ride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here we are, guys. This chapter happened a lot faster than I anticipated and the next is already finished...I'm working on the next one after that. Thanks to my beta for putting up with my shit.
> 
> Scorpius is a bit shook, but he has a plan. Rose, in case I didn't hint at it, is a quiet storm rn. Also Quincy ain't lying, it's about to get bumpy as we sort through daggers and feelings and Rose's...complicated nature. Oh, and some Ministry politics. I'm throwing a lot at poor Rose already and here I am with some more shit. So let me throw some angst-warnings in here. Nothing like Broken, gods no. The nature, the direction of this story, won't allow the story itself to keep the same light tone. But we knew that already. But hopefully the laughs won't stop. Let's note this is the second time she's said Oh...and I swear I'm going to explain it clearly from Rose's side of it. Also 21 yr old boys will be boys: that's my entire explanation of that last scene. To make them normal.


	12. Level Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm trapped and my back's up against the wall___   
_I see no solution or exit out_   
_I'm grinding it out, no one can see_   
_The pressure's growing exponentially___   
**Pressure: Muse**

**Chapter Twelve: Level Ten**

Billions of years of natural selection and evolutionary advancement—oh, and _magic_—had led to the creation of Rose Weasley. She thought of herself as a middle-tier human: not the best, not the worst; always room for growth and improvement.

However, Rose was certain she had set the human race back several decades years with her behaviour as of late. It was the reason she was sitting in the grass in the middle of an open field outside the Burrow on a cool morning in March, practicing meditation in an attempt to repair her energy. Align her chakras?

Whatever the fuck Jane had said.

It was apparently a better idea than the Firewhisky she'd been drinking like water for the last few days.

Okay, _weeks_.

Two weeks and four days, to be specific.

Rose closed her eyes, desperately in need for something to quell the shouting in her head. Jane told her that meditation was a natural state that humans were in when they got out of the way of their true selves. That seemed easy enough in theory, right? Rose inhaled until her lungs were full and _burned_, then exhaled until there was nothing left. She tried it again, looking for that indication that it was working.

But it wasn't.

Rose frowned. How the hell could she have messed up _breathing_? Perhaps she wasn't cut out for it, but Jane had said that meditation was the practice of laying aside of thoughts; the perfect way of free herself from worries and unclog the constant internal chatter in her head. And it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.

Now, all Rose could think was: _how the hell is deep breathing going to get me through today?_

A voice that sounded oddly like Jane said, _you've only just started._

She was right.

There was no rushing the skill, and she would do well to remember that. Jane said that when she meditated, her experience of time and space expanded without limit…but with practice, of course. And, well, Rose needed _all of that_ at the moment.

Her next attempt was better, but not nearly what she needed. Still, Rose felt a little calmer about things in general. Her Inquiry at the Ministry? She would get through it. All the scattered thoughts in her head? She would pick them up eventually; one by one.

But first Rose had to take her medicine to combat the infectious disease festering inside her. It had been there as long as she could remember. There was no cure; no potion or pill she could take to make it go away for good. All she could do was control it herself, beat it down, focus on one of her _many_ problems at a time.

Oh, and bury her head in the sand in an attempt to ignore the rest of them.

Like usual.

But that was impossible as of late.

Anxiety was funny like that. It would leave her alone until one day—when it was _not _bloody welcomed—it moved in with all its shit and turned her cluttered head into a hoarder's dream castle; overwhelming her at the most random of moments. She would be painting her toenails black or eating a kabab at two in the morning or noticing the way Al seemed to come around more when Jane was around…and it would breathe life into the insecurities she'd carried on her back all her life; whispering her private fears into her ear and reminding her of her flaws in the back of her mind.

It was right.

_It had always been right._

Rose twitched.

Sitting on the mat with her back straight and legs folded, Rose made sure she was as comfortable as she could be in the black robes her mum had picked out for her Inquiry. Jane had made her pick out a cleansing mantra to repeat to help, suggesting _woosa _ora Sanskrit phrase that meant remover of obstacles…or some rubbish. Neither worked for Rose. As her thoughts and problems mutinied, she let them go—as instructed—and returned her attention to her mantra. She took a deep breath and exhaled her chosen word:

"_Fuck…"_

"I'm not certain that's how meditation works."

Rose hadn't registered Mr Draco's presence, but wasn't startled. She opened one eye and craned her head up to the voice. Was it time already? He wore all black like normal and had his hair slicked back; looking severe in a way Scorpius never could. The only thing that stopped him from looking like a mourner at a funeral was the slight smirk on his face.

"So, you're a professional then?" she drawled.

The smirk grew into a smile. "I've dabbled through the years."

_Now_ Rose was intrigued. "Is that so?"

"I had a lot of issues I needed to work through. Astoria suggested it, but that was long before…"

Scorpius.  
Astoria's illness.  
The implosion of his marriage.

Rose almost winced at her selective talent of reading between the lines, but his response was extremely personal and rendered her momentarily speechless. He didn't talk about the battles he'd fought both before and after the war—not with Rose, of course. Scorpius knew of his father's internal struggles and the external consequences of his actions as a bigoted teenager from a family that was beyond reproach; the depths he'd sank to before he got the strength to swim back to the surface.

Scorpius had confided in her so many times over the years, so she knew, but he didn't know that.

And his honesty inspired the same in her.

"I have issues. A lot of them." Which was an understatement, but all Rose would confess on the matter. "I thought meditation would help, but I'm utter shit at it."

She looked out in the distance. It was a sight she'd seen all her life and sometimes the beauty of the world around The Burrow still rendered her speechless. The fields were starting to turn green and flower after a long winter. Spring was here; the air was fresh and the clouds were white and puffy. It wouldn't rain today and the birds seemed to know that as they flew overhead. It was peaceful and calming.

If only it inspired a little of both in her.

"I've been told…" Rose trailed off as she watched birds fly in formation over her head. From the corner of her eye, she caught Mr Draco observing her like her mum sometimes did when Rose's behaviour had caused concern. It was a look she was familiar with. She sighed and recited what her mum had said the last week: "We Granger-Weasleys face our problems. We don't avoid them. We don't chase them away with Firewhisky."

"Wise advice." Mr Draco replied dryly. He looked down at the large floral blanket she was sitting on, frowning slightly and contemplating his next move before he eased into a sitting position, legs folded like hers. He wasn't nearly as flexible, and if he struggled, neither his face or movements hinted at it.

Rose half-shrugged. "I guess."

Mr Draco made sure he was settled before he said, "I don't drink much; the odd glass of wine or champagne served at an event, but that's it."

She looked over at him carefully. Mr Draco wasn't the sort to speak freely to anyone; there was a purpose for his presence and every word that came from his mouth. "Why?"

"I handled my problems in a similar way when I was your age," he confessed. "It was easier to be numb than to deal with my…issues."

Rose quietly inserted the word _many_ because Mr Draco had more issues than _Witch Weekly._

"My limit is three drinks," she admitted. Rose played with the end of her braid, frowning as her thoughts turned dark. "But I've been breaking that rule for a few weeks now."

His question was casual, but his keen eyes were narrowed in thought. "Why?"

Now _that_ was a complicated question that she knew better than to try and answer. Rose ignored her own rule for many reasons, and none were an excuse that she could formulate the words to articulate. It seemed that in the last few weeks she had forgotten her rules in order to avoid the whispers of her anxiety; the stress and problems that were coming at her in all directions.

Her behaviour had been reckless, and that was something Rose could be if she let herself.

Something she had been already.

Firewhisky was a safety net and drinking it had seemed like a good idea at the time; something she could use to hide from the things she didn't like being bothered with. But it wasn't working, which was what made her try out meditation; to shut everything up and achieve some _fucking_ _peace_.

But rather than speak her mind, Rose asked, "How did you know I was out here?"

Mr Draco didn't comment on the subject change. "Your mother told me before she and your father left," he answered casually. "I'm under the impression she wants me to talk to you; figure out where your head is before the Inquiry."

"That's why you're here, then."

"Partially," he shrugged and left it at that because he could play tit-for-tat with the best of them.

The sun was trapped behind the clouds and Rose found herself disappointed, wanting to feel the sunshine on her face. "I have a lot going on up here," she tapped her temple, "And, hell, out here too." She threw her hand out, gesturing at nothing, but hoping Mr Draco understood all the same.

New and old, her problems were her problems. But lately, the load she held felt far heavier than usual. Sarcasm and humour were easier than admitting that every night since Hugo had found her on the veranda at Malfoy Manor, she struggled to fall asleep without Dreamless Draught…and when she did, morning came too quick.

It was starting to chip at her, bit by bit. The mental fatigue. Her thoughts. The changes. Her own _ridiculous_ actions. The Ministry Inquiry. The false memories. They were gone, but her mum and Healer Patil hadn't gotten rid of the dreams or the moments of quiet panic before she opened her eyes…

"Is it about the Inquiry?"

"Yes, and no."

It was the simplest answer to a very thorny question.

Mr Draco checked his watch, unfolded his legs, and stood up. She almost cracked a smile when he complained about his knees, but didn't because she knew what his movement meant. It was time. After a moment, Rose did the same, but accepted the hand Mr Draco offered. Once on her feet, she asked. "How long do we have before we need to leave?"

"Twenty minutes," he answered. "Although I'm not sure why you chose me to come with you."

Rose folded the blanket. "You know my family can't be involved. My mum, especially."

"It infuriates her. We've discussed it." He rolled his eyes, but seemed humoured. But the look was gone before Rose could acknowledge it, replaced by one that was almost probing. "Scorpius could have come with you."

"He's having lunch with his mother."

"Lunches can be postponed or cancelled. He would welcome the distraction."

Rose found herself frowning at the memory of her conversation with Astoria at the gala. "I have enough floating around. The last thing I need is his mother accusing me…_bollocks_," Rose would have pulled at her hair in frustration, but it was in a French braid and her Nan would fret if her hair was out of place before her Inquiry. "Forget I said that."

Not bloody likely. Mr Draco's eyes narrowed. "Accusing you of _what_ exactly?"

"It's not important."

"I'll be the judge of that."

She started walking towards The Burrow in a calculated retreat. Too bad her legs weren't long enough for it to matter. Mr Draco fell into step beside her, but he carefully didn't press. He would bide his time.

"I asked you because," Rose said, shifting the conversation away from Scorpius' mum a little more, "My mum said you'd been through something like this before."

"She's correct"

"Then that settles it." Rose cleared her throat, adjusting the folded blanket in her hand. It was older than her dad and heavy. "Besides, people will talk if they see Scorpius and I together."

"People will _always_ talk. You are from a family of heroes and he is a Malfoy, no matter how likeable he is." Mr Draco said plainly. "You've never listened to anything that's been said before."

"I don't, but Scorpius has read every article. He says he doesn't care, but I—"

"I honestly have no idea what goes on in my son's head. I never have, but it's possible that his thought process is complicated." He shook his head, flashing a rather indulgent smile. "There may be diagrams, tests, and statistics involved."

"Such a _nerd_," and she rolled her eyes fondly.

"That he is." Mr Draco chuckled. "But you know how he is. I believe he's read each article for specific purpose. Fact-checking, if you will. If you're worried that he cares, then don't. I don't either."

"His mother is a completely different matter." Rose smiled without humour.

"She always has been," Mr Draco said diplomatically. He never spoke ill about Astoria or her decisions that had essentially left him a single parent. "But he's an adult now. I've let go of the reins, so to speak. She hasn't. Perhaps it's to make up for lost time."

Rose said nothing in response.

Astoria was still on her warpath, trying to smother the life out of the headlines. And as much as Rose wanted to say something, her mum had instructed them both to keep quiet and not to stoke the flames.

The story would die.

And in some respects, it had in the last week or so.

Life went on.

As they walked, Rose found herself working to keep up with Mr Draco's stride. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it, but shortened his steps. It was all done on purpose, of course, because he asked, "Since we're having a moment of honesty—one that we won't discuss once we get back to The Burrow—how do you feel about the situation you've found yourself in?"

Rose blamed her failed meditation session for her response: "The situation that _involves_ Scorpius or the ones that don't?"

Mr Draco's eyebrow lifted, but that was his only reaction. "What involves Scorpius?" His interest was piqued and she could tell he was filing it away for further discussion because she hadn't been careful with her words. _Fuck_.

"It's a long story," and shit, it really was.

"I have nothing but time."

Rose's eyes went comically wide. "_Umm_," her voice was at least two octaves higher than normal as she dragged the word out. "Trust me when I say, you don't." Because she would rather stand on red-hot coals while dodging Unforgivables than discuss any bit of her birthday snog with _his bloody son_.

Hell, they hadn't even discussed it because there was nothing to discuss.

"I was actually asking about the dagger," he amended.

_Oh._

She cleared her throat. "Well, if that's the case. I'm ready for it to be found so my life can go back to normal."

There was a moment of pensive silence before he said, "That's not possible."

Those three words took her back to her conversation with Hugo. Rose froze mid-step, which caused him to stop with her. "Why do you say that?"

Mr Draco's face was serious. "As much as you use jokes and sarcasm like they're your wand; as much as you think once they find the dagger, everything will be normal again in your world, it won't because that's not how life works. You've been through something traumatic. You've felt the pain of an Unforgivable. Your memories were altered to the point where you questioned your own sanity. You've seen…disturbing things that weigh on you whether you admit it or not."

Rose frowned.

Deep down, she acknowledged how close his words aligned with her thoughts, but that didn't mean she liked hearing them out loud. "I'm fine." She _hated_ how she sounded; how restless and _raw_ she felt. Rose looked down at the grass and the clippings on bare feet and repeated herself, putting more emphasis on her words. "_I'm fine._"

He didn't look any more convinced. "Are you?"

"I have to be." It was a little more honest than Rose had intended to be. "I have this Inquiry with Cauldwell, who would like nothing more than for me to bugger it up. I have to answer questions about a night I'd like to forget. I have to do whatever necessary to my mother out of it. But I want to help them find the dagger and get it back to the Department of Mysteries," She adjusted the blanket in her arms. "I'd like to get back to my version of normal. It may not be the same as before, but it's mine. So, honestly, I don't have time to be _anything_ other than fine."

"You've had a rough month, it's only natural—"

"I said I'm fine."

"You're going to _crack_." He sounded concerned, which in turn made her squirm. "Perhaps not today, but you will—"

"I have it under control."

Mr Draco tilted his head, staring at her with the same quiet intensity Scorpius had inherited. "I once said the same thing, but I was wrong."

Rose remained quiet and thoughtful. The cool breeze made her clutch the blanket in an attempt to shield herself from the chill. Her next words were a thought she hadn't verbalised to anyone, but it made her shiver all the same. She had no idea why she was telling Mr Draco, but her lips were moving before she could shove it all back into her head. "I woke up at St. Mungo's and felt…" Rose huffed in frustration.

How could she explain something she _barely_ understood herself?

"It was like someone had found the lock box that controlled my sanity and kept trying different combinations in order to find the right one that would…" She closed her eyes and tried again. "My mind was a _disaster_. Sometimes, I still…"Rose looked out in the distance and frowned, hating how she had been feeling deep down _for weeks_. She wanted to push it down so deep that it would fade from existence.

Mr Draco put his hands on her shoulders like her dad did whenever she needed to be grounded before she ricocheted off the walls. Rose looked at him, feeling oddly exposed under his steady gaze. He reached for the blanket in her arms and Rose accepted the relief from its heavy weight.

His voice remained strangely calm despite her half-broken confession. "When your problems are up here," he tapped his temple with his free hand. "Feeling alone is far worse than being alone. Do better than I did, Rose. Don't carry the weight on your own and don't shut everyone out." He stared past her and into the distance, as if lost in a memory. "Trust someone who isn't a ghost…"

* * *

It was crowded in the Atrium, but not too bad; people bustled about, focused on their tasks…for the most part. There were tours going on and cameras were flashing as the tour guide gave an overview of the history of the Ministry. Inter-department memos glided above their heads and Rose ducked when one got too close. There were banners of the aging Minister looking regal; like a true tower of strength he'd been all of Rose's life and before.

It made Rose feel a little strange that soon her mother's face would be plastered on everything.

Not bad, just surreal.

Every now and then she would catch someone staring. Rose wasn't sure if they were staring at Mr Draco or her or the fact that they were in the Ministry together, but surmised it had to be a combination of all three. If Mr Draco noticed the stares, he never let on. He kept his head slightly upturned and his posture set. Rose tried to emulate, but ended up apologising when she walked into a witch, causing her to spill her own drink on herself. Mr Draco's face twitched in humour as he cleaned up the mess with a quick wave of his wand and a silent spell.

When the doors of the lift closed behind them, Mr Draco asked if she was nervous.

"A bit," Rose answered honestly. The lift started moving.

"Nervous is good," he replied. "Do you remember what we discussed?"

"Yes," and she recited it again as the lift ascended. "Answer the questions directly and clearly without being abrupt and don't ramble. Be honest and not defensive. Avoid sarcasm, swearing, and don't argue, which is going to be _especially_ hard for me because we did _not_ have a laugh last time."

"Remember that you're here as a favour, Rose. He just has follow-up questions. Nothing more, nothing less. It will be simple and you'll be out in thirty minutes, at least."

She nodded as the lift made its way past level five. "I—thank you for coming with me."

Mr Draco looked over at her. "Even if you hadn't asked, I'd still be here."

"My mum?"

"No," he chuckled darkly. "Your father was the one who asked me to accompany you."

Her dad? _Really? _"You're joking!"

The lift passed level three. "He asked the day you got the Notice of Inquiry."

Well…that was an entire week ago and _news to her_. It must have taken a lot of humility and—hell, _everything_—just for her dad to broach the topic with Mr Draco.

It was moments like those when she truly appreciated him.

Her dad had always been the one who knew her best; knew how she worked and what made her tick. His criticism and advice were far more subtle than Mum, who tended to run roughshod over her in the name of being a parent. Lately, it seemed that her mum had found the balance between being reasonable and overbearing, but her dad had achieved that balance long ago. Perhaps he was more indulgent. And that was likely because, in some respects, she was more like him than people realised.

The lift stopped on Level Two and they emerged in the corridor with doors on both sides. Rose fell into step besides Mr Draco, remaining silent until they arrived at the door of the Auror Headquarters. Her mother's office was further down the hall. He opened the door for her and allowed it to shut behind him.

It was busy.

Either the Aurors were working hard at their desks or chatting with each other; no one paid attention to them. There were two wizards in Unspeakable robes sitting on the bench. A bit out of place, but not uncommon. Rose followed Mr Draco through the rows of open cubicles and at the end, they approached one of the secretaries.

He announced their presence with a clearing of his throat.

"Name?" The witch didn't look up, but Rose recognised her. Mrs Hopkins. She was a few years older than her Nan, but hadn't bothered to retire because her husband had died a few years ago and work kept her busy. When Rose used to come to the Ministry when she was a child, Mrs Hopkins always gave her sweets when her mum wasn't looking.

Mr Draco gestured for her to give her official name. "Rose Granger-Weasley."

At that, she looked up, eyes bright, face fond. "Oh! Rose, well isn't this a surprise!"

"Hi, Mrs Hopkins," Rose flashed a genuine smile.

So far, so good.

"Your mother has meetings all day, but your uncle is somewhere around here. James and Albus are in his office if you—"

Rose tugged at the sleeve of her robes. "Uh, I'm here for an Inquiry. It's supposed to be in room twenty-eight at eleven-thirty."

The secretary blinked at her. "What sort of trouble are you in, Rose?"

"No trouble at all, she's assisting with an investigation." Mr Draco answered in her stead.

With a lingering look, she flipped through the scheduling book on her desk and seemed surprised when she confirmed Rose's appointment. "Ah, so you are." She looked at Mr Draco. "Are—"

"I'm just accompanying her…as a favour to her mother."

She didn't bat an eye. The alliance between their families was well-known. Rose knew that a cease-fire was formed between them all after her mum and Uncle Harry testified on Mr Draco's behalf after the war. However, had she and Al not become fast friends with Scorpius and had the bullying not occurred when they were sorted into their respective houses, their families would not have rebuilt the bridge they'd burnt together as children. Uncle Harry and her parents had helped stop Scorpius' harassment and Scorpius—through his dad—had given Rose the tips she used to begin her meteoric rise in Slytherin house.

"Very well, Mr Malfoy, you're more than welcome to remain in the waiting area. I've just put on a kettle for tea, if you're so inclined." She gestured in the direction of the waiting area behind a half-glass wall behind her desk. The room was empty, save for two Unspeakables sitting next to each other, sipping tea.

"Thank you," he replied.

She stood up, opening her palm and gesturing to Rose. "Come, you can follow me."

Rose gave a final glance to Mr Draco, who nodded in encouragement, before she followed Mrs Hopkins down the hall, passing several doors. She stared at the back of the secretary's head as she chattered on about how much Rose had changed since she'd seen her last. It was just two years ago. "Oh, and how is Hugo?"

"He's fine," she answered easily, now walking beside the elderly witch. "In art school"

"Oh, how wonderful! Such a talented boy."

"That he is." Rose said proudly.

"How are things in the Department of Magical Transportation?"

"Uh," she frowned. Honestly, she hadn't worked there in two years. "I don't work in the Ministry anymore. I'm at St. Mungo's as a Healer Assistant. I left Floo Regulations in December."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Oh, I thought you left Floo Relations for Transportation."

"I did, then I worked in the Department of International Confederation of Wizards. From there, I started Obliviator training, but didn't like the long hours. I worked a few weeks in Games and Sports for the free—" Quidditch World Cup tickets, but that was _none of her business_. "Um, I went back to Floo Relations. Then to St. Mungo's. I've been there since January."

She expected was for Mrs Hopkins to say that she needed to settle down like everyone else her age, but instead she said, "Good on you for trying so many different things, Rose. I've always thought that it's a disservice to young people that you have to make a decision so young about the rest of your lives. You've got your mother's brains, for sure; you'll be brilliant at whatever you decide."

An odd feeling bloomed in her chest, quieting the whispers. "Erm, thank you."

"Just stating facts, my dear." She stopped in front of room twenty-eight and opened the door for Rose to enter. "There you go, love. Mr Cauldwell will be with you in a bit." And she patted her shoulder once before she left her alone.

Rose had never been in an Interrogation room, not even when she used to roam the halls with Hugo as children with wild imaginations. It wasn't terribly inviting, a bit dusty, but not so bad. The room was cool, but illuminated by the ceiling lights; the walls were a shade of off-white and clashed with the bright white floor tiles. The only furniture in the room was a heavy-looking wood table, which was bolted to the floor, and two chairs; a tray with two empty glasses sat in the centre of the table.

To distract her nerves, she smoothed out her clothes, making sure there were no visible wrinkles. She fiddled with the end of her braid, tucking the hair that tickled her face behind her ear. When there was nothing left to fix, nothing else for her to do, Rose stood by the wall and debated on whether to sit or stand.

Her aching feet in new shoes made the decision for her. But she wouldn't sit with her back to the wall. That wasn't smart. She chose the other chair. It was hard, uncomfortable, and it wobbled a bit.

The door opened abruptly.

Rose turned her head to greet Cauldwell, but it wasn't him.

The man in the doorway was as old as Scorpius' grandfather with a thin, sharp face and black eyebrows. He was tall, taller than her dad, with a long neck, sloping shoulder, and grey hair. His hawk eyes took her in with one long glance, nodded his greeting; his face remained eerily blank. He wore navy blue robes and that was the only thing that stopped him from looking like the Grim Reaper.

Only just.

She stood up without considering how off kilter it made her look. "Who are you?"

"My name is Claudius Barracus." If it were possible at all, he sounded even _more_ aristocratic than Scorpius' grandfather. His voice was deep and cold; had a force in it that put her on edge instantly. He spoke like someone who didn't use his voice much. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't have to. "I am the Head of The Department of Mysteries. You must be Miss Rose Granger-Weasley, daughter of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione Granger-Weasley."

She only nodded in response, keeping her eyes levelled on him.

How else was she supposed to treat the biggest threat in the room?

"Miss Rose Granger-Weasley, if you—"

"You can call me Miss Weasley." Her official name was a mouthful, after all.

Not to mention, the way he said her name annoyed her.

Rose only noticed the other two Unspeakables flanked in the doorway with Barracus when one of them cleared their throat. A flash of irritation crossed his gaze. Rose surveyed them both in a single glance.

They both were older than Rose, but far less threatening than their leader. The one on the left was in his forties with black hair and light eyes. He was as tall as Barracus, but lanky; his robes looked loose on him. The other looked a little older than Uncle Bill. He was shorter than them both, but still taller than Rose. He didn't look as unfamiliar as the other, but Rose couldn't place him. Perhaps a parent of someone in her Year? Did it even matter?

No.

Barracus turned his attention back to Rose. "It is my understanding that your Inquiry was to be with Mr Cauldwell of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Yes." There was an edge in her voice that she allowed out of sheer pettiness. "Where is he?"

His mouth twitched at her tone, but that it. "Not here, as you can see." At his next words, his voice took on an air of charm that felt fake. "Mr Cauldwell has been _most_ cooperative in our investigation. He has provided us with your original statement and all evidence for our review prior to your Inquiry. Mr Cauldwell has also signed over this portion of the investigation to my department so that we may conduct your Inquiry."

Cauldwell hadn't been helpful in an attempt to further the investigation, that much she knew.

She also knew that the day was not going to go as smoothly as Mr Draco had said.

"As we are now conducting your Inquiry, I would much rather have this meeting in a different location."

Rose was suspicious and pretty certain her face showed it. A different location likely meant The Department of Mysteries and there were enough wards on that place to drive her insane. No thanks. "And _I_ would much rather stay here."

"_Apologies_." He didn't sound sorry. "It seems I have forgotten to remind you that you do not have a _choice_ in the manner," And with that, he stepped fully into the room; his flunkies right behind him.

They were blocking the door and Rose knew better than to show her discomfort. "I'm here to comply with the investigation into the murders. Nothing more, nothing less." Rose frowned at Barracus; the wheels of her mind picking up pace as she worked rapidly through each of her observations and everything he'd said, searching for clues and facts.

There wasn't enough for her to figure out the questions circling in her mind. So, she had to be direct.

"It makes no sense to change anything now that we're all here, so why are you?" She focused her gaze on him, openly challenging him by questioning the authority he clearly didn't want questioned. "What do you want from me that you can't ask here? It's _odd_ that a department head would show up for such a small inquiry, don't you think?"

"I do not answer to you, Miss Weasley." He sounded far more frustrated than someone with the sort of entitlement he wielded should.

Rose folded her arms, stubborn as always. "Then I want to speak to the person you _do_ answer to."

"I am the head of my department." There was authority pouring off him in waves. "There is _no one_ above me."

Great. Now they were back where they started.

Rose was a little more than frustrated when she reminded him, "I'm not here as a suspect."

"They _have_ cleared you, but Mr Cauldwell does not feel you were entirely truthful in your first interview and has subsequent questions he wanted to ask. I will now ask them, but there is something I would like to discuss with you. A proposal, if you will, but that will come later."

A proposal? She liked that idea even less than leaving the DMLE. "We can discuss whatever you like right here."

Here where there were people she trusted nearby.

"You are _wasting my time_." Looking at Barracus was like looking at a wall; a big, solid blank wall. He was impenetrable.

"Touché." Rose said with a frown of her own.

"I do not like your tone, Miss Weasley," he sneered.

She squared her shoulders, faking a casual shrug of her shoulders. "I have a long list of things I don't like either, but here we are."

"Will you comply?"

"My presence today shows my willingness to comply to the investigation. I could have gotten out of this, but I told my mum not to block this. There's no reason to move this Inquiry. Where I am won't change my response to your questions. The faster this dagger is found; the sooner patients stop dying and you lot get it back. Win-win for all."

He flashed a small, rather terrifying smile. "You have said it yourself. _Where_ you answer my questions will not change your response."

Rose bit the inside of her jaw to punish herself for her mistake.

"Miss Weasley, I prefer to speak to you in my own corner of the Ministry." He tried to sound amenable, but it just left her cold inside. "Call it a preference, if you will."

Rose thought about it. "If I agree, can Mr Malfoy come with us?"

Barracus didn't budge. "He cannot."

There was _something_—a feeling tugging at the back of her mind that told her there was more at work than just a simple Inquiry. They wanted her well and truly _alone_. And she wasn't about to figure it out why. "If that's the case, then my answer is no. I won't go. I'm not comfortable with _any_ of this." For a myriad of reasons. "I think we're done here."

If anything, Barracus' presence became even larger, more suffocating. "Might I remind you _Miss Weasley_." He said her name as if she were a bug that he could squash and seemed willing to try. "The Department of Mysteries does not operate under the umbrella of the Ministry so your wishes mean nothing to me. This is _our_ dagger and _our_ Inquiry. I do not like being told no…_by anyone_."

Because she couldn't help herself, she snorted. "_That_ much I knew already."

His eyes turned hard. "The ends will _always_ justify the means."

Before Rose could figure out what he meant, the lanky Unspeakable stepped aside and drew his wand. Her arms flew out against her will; the jerking unnatural motion made her momentarily confused. And that was all the time needed for his second spell. It was silent, but thin cords shot from his wand.

And that was how Rose ended up with her arms bound up to her elbows.

Rose knew better than fight. She'd learned that lesson the hard way at seven when she, James and Teddy were chasing garden gnomes. Teddy tried the spell for the first time, misfired, and ensnared her instead. Rose had fought and struggled; the threat of suffocation had only been in her mind, but that had been enough. Teddy had panicked while James screamed for his dad, but it was his mum who rushed out and released Rose; his mum who laid in the grass with her, stroking her hair and speaking softly to her as she cried long after she'd been freed.

The other lackey drew his wand, using it to gesture for her to start walking. Having little choice in the matter, with her wand deep in the pocket of her robes, she took her first few slow steps towards them. She did not panic, but she did move her arms instinctively, causing the ropes to tighten uncomfortably. But she couldn't focus on that. Instead, she focused on her steps, each one leading her from the cold comfort of the interrogation room to wherever the hell they were talking her.

Barracus was beside her; his two quiet cronies were behind them, neither speaking. Rose kept her head up, eyes fixed and straight ahead; face blank.

Meanwhile, her thoughts scattered like frightened fish.

Rose tried damn hard to make sure Barracus never noticed how her she dragged her feet on the floor, nearly stumbling once or twice; made sure that he couldn't hear the blood roaring behind her ears or the sound of her heavy breathing. Her hands trembled once and the ropes tightened again and that time, it almost _hurt_. Rose winced and bit down on the inside of her jaw as sweat beaded on her brow.

At that point, fear should have gripped her, but only numbness came.

It allowed her to continue faking the calm she didn't feel.

Mr Draco was talking to an Auror and did a double take when he saw her. Rose watched his eyes dart around, quickly assessing their situation: the man beside her, the two behind her, two drawn wands to his one sheathed wand.

Odds aside, when his eyes fell on her bound forearms, Mr Draco moved quicker than she'd ever seen him, blocking their path. "Who are you and where the _hell_ are you taking her?"

Barracus tilted his head to the side in a rather strange motion, meeting Mr Draco's gaze with one of his disturbingly direct looks. "I am Claudius Barracus. _Head_ of the Department of Mysteries. We have been authorised to conduct Miss Weasley's Inquiry."

There was a demand in his voice and it told Mr Draco to _move_.

Because he wouldn't be cowed, he asked, "And who authorised this?"

His mouth twitched, much like it had when Rose had spoken back to him back in the room. He wasn't used to anyone challenging his authority. "That is none of your concern." Barracus told him, allowing just a hint of his impatience to flash. "You are not her parent or guardian, nor are you a Ministry employee."

Rose knew she was truly buggered.

"I am not, but what difference does that make?" He pointed at her bound arms, "Those aren't necessary. She came here voluntarily to assist with the investigation into the murders."

"_I_ determine what is or is not necessary." Barracus sneered condescendingly. Rose bit down on the inside of her cheek again to stop herself from saying anything that would further devolve the situation. Or maybe make one of them hit her with a Silencing Charm. She already lost the use of her arms. Losing her voice would be far worse. "I do not answer to you or _anyone_. Not even the Minister himself can stop my investigation."

"Be that as it may, we weren't notified of any changes regarding her Inquiry. Her mother—"

"Is _not_ present." Barracus shot back, taking a slow, menacing step towards Mr Draco, who squared his shoulders and raised his head, keeping his eyes trained on the taller man. "_Step aside_." The threat in his words were almost tangible. "I do not like to repeat myself."

Mr Draco glared at him hard and was about argue further when the four Unspeakables she'd spotted earlier approached from behind and to the side. They were surrounded. Like Rose, he seemed to weigh out his chances and realised the odds were not in their favour.

Try as he might, she was on her own.

He said her name, but what she heard in his tone was: _Trust me._

Then he stepped aside.

Rose almost balked. _Trust him?_

That was _a lot_ easier said than done while tied up like a Christmas ham and being led away like a lamb to the slaughter. She knew she was messing up her metaphors, but she couldn't really think, now could she? Rose felt herself start to panic, but knew it wouldn't do her any good. The problem was that _panic_ was an easy emotion to feel.

She almost laughed hysterically.

Ever since she'd opened her eyes in St. Mungo's with her mind in pieces, Rose had spent most of her days beating down any emotion that crept to the surface. Even right then, there were so many things bubbling inside her. She wanted to crack a joke. She wanted to mock Barracus and his stupid voice. She wanted to say _something_ to Mr Draco to cling to their status quo of biting sarcasm and wit in uncomfortable situations; _anything_ to prove to them both that she was fine.

But her mouth was dry and Rose just _couldn't_.

She felt lost and utterly alone.  
She felt like laughing at the entire situation.  
She felt…so much that she felt nothing at all.

* * *

They led the way back to the lift and Rose's initial numbness faded while she watched the dial move, tapping her foot so she wouldn't move her hands in an attempt to quell her nervous energy. She was in the back with Barracus, who never spoke a word during the ride.

Not that she expected him to have a friendly chat with her.

The lift stopped on Level Nine. The Department of Mysteries, as she'd expected.

When the doors opened, the three henchmen in the front filed out and stepped to the side, followed by the three in front of them. Rose had just stepped out of the lift when Barracus glanced in her direction.

"Not too much further."

Rose said nothing, saving her energy for the fight she knew was coming.

Instead, she followed them down the corridor. Three flunkies led the way, three walked behind them, and Barracus was beside her. Rose felt suffocated; not just because of their presence or the smothered emotions bubbling in her stomach. The walls were black; the hall was cold with no windows or doors. Torches lined the wall, giving off an ominous glow. It was damp, desolate. She may as well have been a prisoner being led to the gallows for all she was concerned.

She surmised that they were taking her into the department proper, but was surprised when they detoured left to the steps.

They were taking her to Level Ten.

Rose's step faltered, causing one of the lackies to bump her from behind. The action sent her stumbling forward with no hands to stop her. It put them all on guard. As if she _could_ escape against _seven_ wands. Her wandless magic wasn't _that_ good. Speaking of wands, one of them pressed theirs into her back and ordered her to move. Rose was too busy cycling between defiance and fear to do anything except walk as instructed.

The stairs were stone and so were the walls; everything was dark, but not dark enough to render her blind. They seemed to know the way and led her down two corridors until they stopped in front of a large door. The Unspeakables in front stepped to the side, allowing Barracus to step forward. He touched the door and it glowed before she heard the lock click, granted him access.

The door creaked when it opened.

"After you, Miss Weasley."

Like in the Inquiry rooms in the DMLE, the room was surprisingly well-lit. The difference was the simple fact that there wasn't a table. Only one chair in the centre of the room that looked fused to the floor. All the room needed was a light fixture hanging from the ceiling and it would look like every interrogation room she'd ever seen in the movies.

Rose already knew the only seat was hers and she took it. Not because she wanted to actively participate in the cliché, but because her feet were still hurting and it wasn't enough to distract her from the pain of being roped by magic. She rested her bound forearms awkwardly in front of her, locking eyes with Barracus with the same cheekiness that had ended with her being tied up in the first place.

Slytherin had taught her far more than magic, but above all, it taught her to be cautious and fight on her own terms. Her odds weren't great, but not so bad. After all, they wanted something from her and that gave her leverage. But how much?

Well, she wasn't sure if it was enough to get her out of there.

Barracus gave instructions to his goons. Four were to go back to The Department of Mysteries; the two from before were chosen to stay. Wordlessly, they followed his instruction; the heavy door closed behind them with finality.

Initially, Barracus paid her no mind, opting to have a quiet conversation with the remaining Unspeakables by the door.

Rose took the opportunity to try and calm herself down; study her opponents. She was unable to get a read on any of them so she opened her mouth for the first time since they used magic on her. "I believe introductions are in order," she said dryly because, hell, they'd made it perfectly clear that there were no rules…so she threw hers away as well.

"How rude of me." Barracus shot back just as monotonous; face as pale and blank as ever in the light. "Unspeakable Henry," he gestured to the lanky one. Then, to the older one. "Unspeakable Brown."

"Pleasure." She did not mean it. Rose extended her bound arms. It was an awkward move that made her lock her hands together. "Now that we're all friends, _release me_."

Barracus loomed closer while the other two stayed behind. "You are no position to make demands, Miss Weasley."

"It's unnecessary now that I'm where you wanted." Rose argued; the movement tightened the coils, causing her to wince. "If—if you want to have a proper discussion, you'll undo the spell."

He did not.

"Fine," she lowered her forearms, fuming because her heart started racing. She wasn't sure if it was out of fear or nerves. Maybe both. "Let's skip all the bullshit and get to the point in the Inquiry where I tell you what I told Cauldwell, you undo the spell, and I leave because that's all I know."

Barracus clasped his hands together, his cheekbones became more pronounced when he tried to smile. "Now we both know that is not true."

He moved even closer, and Rose sat straight up in her chair; her insides coiling like the golden ropes around her arms. She remained silent and he looked almost predatory in his glee.

The thrill of the hunt.

"I have been made aware that an ex-employee of my department has told you about a dagger that you have seen before."

"My arms." Rose tried again, but didn't lift them because the skin already looked red and angry, her fingers were tingling from the loss of circulation. She didn't want to hurt them any further.

"No."

She glared at him, anger stamping down her fear. If he wanted to be difficult, so could she, and she was damn good at it. "Your ex-employee's statement is public record. I'm an employee of St. Mungo's. I've been briefed just like the rest of the staff."

Barracus didn't like her mechanical answer. _Good._

He turned away from her, inclining his head as a gesture to one of his flunkies.

Unspeakable Brown crossed the room, coming close enough to make Rose turn her attention to him. She had been exclusively talking to Barracus the entire time, so she was surprised when Brown asked, "What happened the night you saw the dagger?"

She kept her voice firm, though it tried to waver. "For the last time, untie me."

Brown didn't bother looking at his boss. He knew the answer.

Rose knew hers, too, and it came out just as bland as the last one. "I'm certain you've read Cauldwell's report."

He wasn't skilled at suppressing his emotions and allowed his irritation to show. "How much do you know about the dagger?"

"Stay away from the pointy end?" Rose drawled sarcastically and then bit down on the inside of her jaw as the last bit of the tingling sensation left her arms. They were truly numb now.

Brown glared daggers at her—for lack of a better word. Rose leaned back in her uncomfortable seat, crossing her legs at the ankles, looking pleased with herself despite the pain she was in and the amount of strain she was under. It was hot. Her arms and her bum were numb. Her head was _pounding_ out the rhythm of her panic and nerves. Sweat ran down her face and she almost instinctively used her hand to wipe it away, but stopped.

Barracus turned around and Rose became hyperaware that there were two men standing over her.

The air in the room changed.

"I see we need to take a different approach as you _refuse_ to cooperate."

_Shit._

The threat was as real as their intimidation tactics, but Rose was in too deep to back down. "You should have taken a better approach before you detained me."

After a quiet moment, Barracus coldly said something that surprised her. "I apologise."

_Now_ they were getting somewhere. "Then let me go."

His eyes hardened and she held her breath. "Not until I am _finished_."

With how fast her heart was going, was she even going to make it?

Barracus leaned in a little too close. Rose felt trapped like a bug in a jar and she couldn't _breathe_; threatened in a way she had never been before. She felt his breath on her cheek when he said, "Not until you tell me _everything_ I want to know. Not until you do _exactly_ as I say."

And while he never touched her, his presence made the creeper alarm bells go off in her head.

Rose was _done_. She could hear herself as she stumbled on words, ready to vomit her anxiety and _fury_. "You can take your apology and _piss off_."

She was _vibrating_ with the sort emotions that wouldn't do her any good. When she got like that, her anger was almost always followed by tears. There was no place for them, even though she felt uncomfortable, frustrated, and _out of control_. And…it didn't look like she was going to be able to walk out of the room on her own without giving in to whatever the hell they wanted.

Rose was in no condition to fight her way out of anything, but spoke with far more bravado than she felt. "I'm not here to play your fucking _game_, Barracus."

"_You_ are as difficult as your mother."

"I take that as a compliment." At least today she did.

Barracus looked at Brown and gave him a nod that allowed him to speak.

He stepped back and Rose exhaled.

Brown stepped forward.

She tensed.

"The dagger belongs to us, as you know." He started, looming just outside her comfort zone, and that was better than before. She still watched his every move as if he were going to strike at any moment. "Everything that was reported by our ex-employee was accurate."

Rose tilted her head in acknowledgement, but that was it. After all, she was still trying to get herself under control.

"We've been studying its magical properties with regards to gaining control over it to use it on criminals. We want to put their magic into a dormant state while they serve their sentence in Azkaban."

Rose struggled to take it all in. _How was that possible?_

"Furthermore," Brown explained, sounding excited enough to make Rose think he were head of the projects mentioned. "We've also been using it to study how to prolonging life to those with incurable diseases, how to increase the magical signature in certain people who have diseases that weaken their magic, and perhaps increase the power of other magical artefacts. The list goes on. I won't go into details as that is highly classified information. The dagger itself isn't a dark artefact, but the research has been so slow…_decades_ slower than planned because sometimes…it can _corrupt_."

"Which you already know, Miss Weasley." Barracus said, stroking his chin almost thoughtfully.

It reminded her of a villain in their secret lair.

Shame he didn't have a cat.

Brown continued talking while Barracus remained oddly quiet. "We can't estimate how long this person has been bound to the dagger or how they acquired it. Most of those who have bonded with the dagger don't make it more than a few months before being compromised. We estimate that this bond is over ten years old—maybe even _twenty_ years old—just from the evidence from your fight with them at St. Mungo's."

He sounded excited.

_Too excited._

"We conducted our own investigation. I went into the room myself. The signature was off the charts with raw, untamed magic. The night you duelled them; you must have felt the definition of true _power_. How did you survive? Why didn't they kill you?"

She was meant to be a scapegoat, that much she remembered, but said nothing else because her stomach was churning.

Her silence did not stop Brown. "I'm sure you know what happens when you stab someone in the heart with it."

Yes, she did, and answered him with a single nod.

After all, she had witnessed it thousands of times already in her head.

He paused for a moment that seemed almost dramatic. "How about if they miss?"

Rose didn't know the answer to that question. Nor had she ever thought about it. "You bleed."

"_Yes_," Brown was almost enthusiastic, like a scientist that had solved a complicated puzzle. He was in his element. It was a bit terrifying. "But it's not that simple, Miss Weasley. It goes back to why the research into the dagger is _so vital_. The dagger, when used correctly, _feeds_ from your magic until it sated…and it's _always_ hungry."

She shuddered.

"However, when it's used incorrectly; if it doesn't kill you, it can suppress your magic and can essentially turn you into a Squib for a certain length of time. It all depends on the location of the wound and the intent of the person its bonded with. It took _years_ for the last survivor to regain her magic, which was _fascinating_. However, the experiments were halted when it went missing during the chaos during Voldemort's coup."

The information was helpful, but Rose had long since run out of patience with him, the story, and the entire situation. "This is all classified information, I'm sure of it, so why are you telling me?"

Barracus re-joined the conversation, voice just as grating and callous as ever. "Miss Weasley, I am under the impression that you have seen this dagger and know what it looks like. Yes or no."

Not that she could ever forget it, but she wasn't going to grant him the answer he wanted. "You already know the answer, Barracus."

"I do." He stared at her and it set her on edge in a way that made her fidget, ropes tightening even more. She was grateful for the lack of sensation; the numbness that _burned_ to the point of distraction. "Miss Weasley, do listen." He chastised coldly. She lifted her head up, meeting his eyes as he gave her instructions. "I would like you to find the person that has bonded with the dagger and apprehend them _and_ the dagger. Bring them to me _alive_."

Unspeakable Henry, who Rose had nearly _forgotten about_, appeared at Barracus' side. He looked alarmed, but she wasn't sure why. "Sir—"

"Do _not_ interrupt me," he hissed.

Henry went back to his corner, but Rose watched as several emotions washed over his face. At the forefront was _panic_. She knew that one all too well as it was swelling in her, ready to break like a dam and drown _everything_. Barracus was focused on her once again with his dead eyes and angular face, though he seemed to be awaiting an answer.

His request was _ludicrous_. Literally the craziest shit she had ever been asked to do in her entire life. Hell, she'd barely made it out of there the first time and they wanted her to actively look for them? They were asking the impossible from her and the odds were terrible; no guarantee of success. And they _knew that_, but were still willing to sacrifice her for their greater good. As if she were _nothing_; only a means to an end.

Expendable.

"You're not serious."

"I am."

"You're _mad_." Rose blurted out, almost breathlessly. "You've _got_ to be if you think I'll help you after—"

"They didn't kill you," Brown said as if he were trying to reason with her; as if _she_ were being unreasonable in her refusal to run after a wizard overpowered by a bond with a sentient dagger. "And that's noteworthy. The dagger will feed and feed and it never gets full. They should have stabbed you out of convenience, fed it your magic simply because they could, but they didn't. You are the exception to the rule, Rose. You may be the key in finding them and bringing the dagger back to where it belongs so we can continue our experiments."

She looked at him as if he were completely crackled. "I don't give a damn about your bloody experiments."

"Then do it for the people who have died."

"How about this? I'll make this simple for you. Go find your own dagger and _piss off_."

Brown was not above making a deal. "We can make it worth your while."

Rose could not resist any attempt at a treaty that would get her the _hell_ out of there without spells being thrown in her direction. Or without having a complete meltdown. Both of which seemed likely given everything they were asking—no _ordering_—her to do. "If you release me and let me go, I'll consider it."

Naturally, Barracus called her bluff. "You are _lying_."

"And if I am?" She stared up at him in real defiance as sweat ran down her face. "This is _your_ dagger and _your_ problem. As much as I'd love that dagger to be out of St Mungo's, I _refuse_—"

"We can make it your problem, as well." Barracus stood to his full height over her.

Rose never did like ultimatums, and his statement reeked of one. "You could _try_, but I don't give a _damn_ about your threats."

"Perhaps that is true," he retorted grimly. Barracus' voice took an edge it hadn't during their entire conversation. "However, The Department of Mysteries has ways to _force_ you to comply."

Henry, from his corner, looked at his boss, rather stunned. Brown, too.

Whatever he was planning, it wasn't good.

Barracus would not be reasoned with. "Lift your wand, Brown. Force her to comply."

Brown hesitated, but did as he was told, lifting his wand.

Pointing it at her.

Force her to comply?

The only way they could was…_unforgivable_.

And something very miniscule inside of Rose snapped at the implication, which caused the rest of her to just _break_; leaving her paralyzed and gasping, drowning in the intensity of everything she was feeling. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. No one to help. No spell that would block it.

_Nothing_ could stop it.

The only difference between now and the night in St. Mungo's was that she hadn't known then what it felt like; hadn't known the true meaning of _pain_. The sensation of being ripped apart cell by cell. The feeling of her muscles pulling and her existence shrinking to the point where all she knew was white-hot _agony_. She couldn't go through that again.

She just _couldn't_.

"My actions very well may be frowned upon, but the ends will _always_ justify the—"

Suddenly, the walls and floor shook with the force of an earthquake. It sounded like someone had dropped a bomb right outside the door. The force of it shook Rose right out of her panic, leaving her off-centre both figuratively and literally.

What the hell was that?

Henry backed into the adjacent wall, looking terrified, while Brown scurried behind Rose's chair as if _she_ were going to protect him. Barracus didn't move, glaring around as if the shaking room were nothing but a mere annoyance. There was silence…and he turned to her again to continue coaxing a reluctant Brown into using a damn _Unforgivable_ on her.

There was a second rumble at the door, deeper and louder than the first. It reverberated through the four corners of the room, rattling the hinges of the door hard enough for them to give. The sound of metal hitting the floor was all she could hear after the roar faded.

Barracus ordered Henry to figure out what was going on and the man started to move when—

The third sound was not a rumble, but an _explosion_.

Everything happened so quickly Rose barely had time to focus on any one thing. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness and chaos. She heard Brown yell in alarm, saw Henry's quick movements as he took cover, and felt Barracus' icy presence next to her. Instinctively, she used her bound arms to try and shield herself—the rope tightening to the point where they felt like they were _cutting into her skin_—as heavy wooden door_ groaned_ and fell into the room, landing with a resounding crash.

Dust billowed in the air from the impact, causing everyone except Barracus to cough.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Light returned to the room, the dust settled and Rose uncovered her head.

In the doorway stood her uncle.

He looked calm enough for Rose to know that he _wasn't_.

"Rose." His voice had a timbre she'd never heard before. Uncle Harry zeroed in on her seated position, the magical ropes, the two men standing over her, and the drawn wand. "Are you hurt?"

She didn't know.

Her ears were still ringing and her heart was still ready to punch through her chest, but that had little to do with him _breaking down the door_ and more to do with the fact that Barracus and his merry gang of Unspeakables wanted to use an Unforgivable on her. Honestly, she didn't care if the door had _fallen on her_; she was just relieved that he was there and she was no longer alone.

Barracus was furious with her uncle's dramatic entrance and didn't bother to hide it. "You _cannot_ just burst in here like a child, _Potter._" He spat hotly as he stepped in front of Rose, physically blocking her from him. "We are not finished here and you _will_—"

"You were _finished_," his voice thick and low with anger and outrage, "When you bound her and dragged her down here for no reason other than a petty show of your own dominance."

Barracus squared his shoulders, which made him seem even taller. Slowly, he crossed the room towards her uncle, the sound of his shoes made an eerily hollow sound with each step he took. Soon, there was only a fallen door between the two of them. "This is none of your concern."

He gripped his wand tighter in his fist as if he were using it to try and channel his anger. "Are you _serious_? None of my concern?" Uncle Harry nearly shouted, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "She's my _niece_ and even if she weren't, you still have _no right_ to detain a witness to interrogate them. Even if she weren't a witness, it's _still_ illegal!"

"I do not answer to you, _Potter_. I do not answer to _anyone_."

Her uncle finally stepped into the room. He looked absolutely _ridiculous_ standing on top of a door, yelling at a man half a foot taller than him, but that was the sort of day Rose was having.

"I don't give a damn that you don't answer to any of us," he told Barracus fiercely. "I allowed your Unspeakables into the Auror Department to assist in the investigation of a dagger you lot _lost_ almost thirty years ago and—" He threw his hand out in the direction of Rose. "_This_ is the thanks I get?"

Barracus wouldn't back down. "I am doing my duty, Potter. It is not personal. Miss Weasley refused to act in accordance with—"

"That's utter _bullshit_." She truly couldn't think of the last time a curse word came from him, but it was likely James-related. _It always was._ "The fact that she voluntarily subjected herself for an Inquiry isn't a sign of non-cooperation. Besides, her mother allowed your department to _assist_ once she found out that the dagger belonged to you lot. She didn't sign off on you taking control of the entire investigation and she didn't authorise you to detain her daughter. I _certainly_ didn't agree to any of _this_ when I allowed your Unspeakables into The Auror Department today."

"Again, Potter, I do not answer to you." Barracus sneered.

"_Who_ authorised this?" he stared at the taller man, demanding an answer. "I'm _not_ going to ask again." It sounded like a threat, but felt more like a promise.

The silence between them went longer than Rose anticipated, but in the end, Barracus told him what Rose would have divulged the moment they'd gotten the hell out of there: "Mr Cauldwell. He is the current lead of the murder investigation at St. Mungo's, which happens to involve _our_ dagger. He relinquished the investigation to The Department of Mysteries with the promise that the Auror Department would assist when it came time to arrest the person bound to the dagger."

If at all possible, her Uncle's mood darkened further and his anger intensified. "He doesn't have the authorisation to do that. _Only_ the head of the department can, and you _know_ that."

"Perhaps I did," Barracus said wryly. "However, that does not matter in the grand scheme of things. It is _our_ dagger, after all. Miss Weasley has seen it, which makes her vital to our investigation."

He looked gobsmacked. "And _this_ is how you ask for her assistance?"

"Again, I—"

"Find your damn dagger yourself. Don't use my Aurors, stay the hell out of my department, _and_ away from my niece." His face was red with fury as he barked out, "Oh, and good luck bringing them down with your _Unspeakables_ that aren't trained to fight. I'm sure it'll be the battle for the _ages_."

Rose peered over her shoulder at Brown. She started to move when his focus zeroed on her. His wand was still out, but at his side. He would use it if ordered, no matter how hesitant he seemed to have been before. Henry seemed rooted in his spot, not moving, only observing with wide eyes. He looked about as scared as she felt when they dragged her out of the DMLE. _Good._

Well, not so good.

Their odds weren't that great.

Her uncle had his wand and seemed ready to tear the room apart with it. However, hers was out of reach in the deep pocket of her robes. Rose hoped it wouldn't come to that. She didn't give a damn about politics, but she couldn't help but realise the gravity of the situation.

They were in the Ministry.

At the bottom level.

Alone together and outnumbered.

Barracus _obviously_ didn't play by the same rules as her uncle.

She still couldn't believe how close she'd gotten to feeling that spell again.

"You aren't a dueller, Barracus. _None of you are_," he cut his eyes to the other two Unspeakables in the room. Uncle Harry didn't seem to give a damn about rules; nor did he need assistance. He seemed to be handling Barracus just fine. Though shorter, her uncle used the extra advantage from standing on the thick door to assert himself. "Get out of my way."

"Or else?" Barracus sneered.

Her uncle gripped his wand. "You think I won't, but _know_ that I will."

Rose wasn't sure what her uncle meant, but Barracus seemed to understand him completely. The silent stare down between the two stretched until it felt like a gaping canyon…and somehow it stretched even further.

That was, until Barracus stepped to the side.

"You are free to leave, Miss Weasley." He looked at her, voice like frost. "We will be in touch."

Her heart sank.

"Like _hell_ you are." Uncle Harry was in front of her in a flash, releasing the cords from around her arms. He had to use a spell; they were so tight. Too tight. Freedom came with hot, tingling _pain_ as sensation bled to the surface. She flexed her hands, grimacing as it felt as if she were being poked with thousands of needles.

It was fine.  
It was nothing.  
She was better.

Everything was fine.

Rose was so absorbed with her uncle's presence and her independence that she barely noticed the condition of her arms until he swore under his breath; hot with anger. She bruised easier than Al so she wasn't too surprised when she saw her arms. Her skin was hot and chaffed, but unbroken. There were forming welts that criss-crossed down her arms to her wrists and bruises, so many angry bruises that left both of her arms discoloured. It was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

But she was far too relieved for her freedom from that room and Barracus and his minions to care. Perhaps later, it all would hit her like a tidal wave and she would have a different reaction. Or maybe it would be best if she buried today like she buried a lot of things: deep and covered in concrete.

She wondered if she could.

Her uncle helped her up. Rose didn't realise how unbalanced she was or how utterly _drained_ she felt until she was on her feet, swaying. Uncle Harry wrapped an arm around her and bore almost all her weight as they crossed the room, stepping on the door and finally leaving the silent room and Barracus behind.

And if she heard Barracus' angry voice as he berated his minions, she pretended she didn't.

* * *

They were in the lift heading back to Level Two before Rose knew it.

Uncle Harry's hand were shaking; the adrenaline and the nerves of steel he'd used to break down the door seemed to have left him in a rush. His angry flush was gone, leaving him wan and tired. Still, his focus was on her as he gave her a cursory onceover; much like he had when she was six and had fallen off her first broom.

His voice sounded odd when he said, "I'm _so_ sorry."

She just stared at him, still numb; unsure why he was apologising.

"_None of that_ was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a simple inquiry."

Rose knew that. It wasn't his fault.

Uncle Harry bent so he was eye-level with her. He was _shaking_. There was so much in his eyes that she had to look away, down at her feet—somehow, she'd lost her shoes during their escape. Hmm. "Rose," he said her name almost gently. She looked up at him, feeling a bit lost. "What did they say in there?"

They wanted her to comply.

They wanted to use her.

They wanted to use _force_.

But she said none of that.

And her blank face and silence made him flinch and she heard him inhale. "Shit, I'm—" His voice was raw and he swallowed back whatever he was about to say. His eyes went back to her forearms that were out between them; they were sore, joints stiff and unwilling to bend. "You don't have to say anything. Not until you're ready."

He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

It was only then that she realised _she_ was the one shaking, not him.

"It's okay to not to be okay, you know that, right?"

"I'm fine."

She wanted to thank him for coming, but he wouldn't want her appreciation. They were family. What he had done was what family should do. But more than that, Rose wanted to ask how the hell he knew to even _look for her_, but that answer was clear.

_Trust me._

Mr Draco was waiting just outside the door to the Auror Department, checking his watch when he heard the lift's doors open. Al and James were with him and they all looked relieved to see them both together. Her cousins rushed up to them both as soon as they were close enough, Al made it first. Uncle Harry and Mr Draco exchanged unreadable looks.

James examined her arms.

Al bombarded her with questions.

They _both_ asked her if she was okay.

Well, ten minutes ago Rose would have made a joke or said something witty. However, during the ride up, all her brashness from earlier had left her system and it took every bit of adrenaline along with it. Everything that had happened that night at St. Mungo's—_and since_—had pulled the seams of her self-control to the point of no return.

But that didn't matter.

Her only option was to be fine.

"Al, James," Uncle Harry sounded as tired as she felt. "Give her a moment." He closed his eyes when James asked him a question she hadn't caught. "Give us _both_ a moment."

"I'm fine."

The door next to them opened and Rose saw her mum's hair, heard the familiar angry tone of her voice before she even saw her face. "How long has it been since Harry left? I'm _not_ going to just _wait_—"

When she saw her, the righteous indignation in her mother's tone died instantly.

"Rose?"

Her focus was on her.

Just her.

For the first time, in a _very_ long time, Rose found herself drawn to her mother's presence, rather than repelled. She couldn't breathe or think about the significance of the pull. Her mind raced, fingers tingled with their first signs of life, and her vision was starting to blur. She had _grossly_ miscalculated her current level of stress verses the amount she could handle and maintain her composure.

Shit.

"Are you okay?" her mum asked gently; eyes filled with nothing but concern.

"I'm fine."

Her eyes softened even more. "No, love, _you're not_."

It didn't matter if she agreed or not because Rose was already moving on pure instinct, stepping between Al and James. The jacket fell from her shoulders and she barely acknowledged the fact that she'd stepped on Al's foot; none of that mattered. It was with linear focus that Rose flung herself in her mum's arms; not minding her bruised arms or caring about the pain. She just held on for dear life, finding the comfort she didn't know she needed until her mum wrapped her arms around her.

Holding her.  
Grounding her.  
Calming her.

Rose shut her eyes tight. All she could do was try and fight off her emotions and _breathe_, but she couldn't do either.

She was hurt and overwhelmed and disoriented. Rose just…wanted her mum. Her grip tightened in desperation, but her mother held on. She must have been babbling because she hushed Rose and rubbed her back like she had when she was young and upset over something one of her cousins had said or done. "I'm here. _We're all here._"

And shit…

She didn't realise she was sobbing until it was far too late to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here we have it, the next stages of the plot. I'd apologize for the heavy chapter, but it was necessary. Hope you enjoyed! A few points:
> 
> 1\. Welcome to Rose's psyche as we dive a little deeper into her character...and you get a better picture of how the Cruciatus Curse messed her up. PTSD, anxiety, and all. Which would be understandable, all things considered. I'm throwing a lot on Rose, the poor girl was bound to break. I'd been slowly smoothing her strained relationship with Hermione, but I think this might do it.
> 
> 2\. Draco was such a joy to write like this, older and a little wiser about the person he had been before the war and even after. JK even said he raised Scorpius to be better than he was, and the only way for him to do that is to change himself. I just needed someone to verbalize Rose's problems and acknowledge the fact that she's hiding her issues behind her humor. Had to be someone with just as many issues.
> 
> 3\. Barracus...now that was a task, as his character changed like twice in my head before settling into this particular asshole. It's been said many times that the DOM is beyond reproach so it makes sense for the Head to think of himself as something of a god. Won't be the last we see of him.
> 
> 4\. Harry...uncle of the year. I originally had someone else break her out, but in the end, he worked the best as he had a reason and a way to do it.
> 
> 5\. No Scorpius, he'll be back. Jane, too, but they both were here in spirit.


	13. Placebo Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I’ve been up for days__  
__I finally lost my mind_______   
_And then I lost my way___   
_I’m blistered, but I’m better_  
_And I’m home._____   
**Watch The Sky: Something Corporate**

**Chapter Thirteen: Placebo Effect**

The wide berth everyone had given Rose lasted all of one damn day.

Scratch that, nineteen hours. Give or take.

Mortification had trailed behind long after her tears had subsided. Uncle Harry had left to do damage control and left with Mr Draco, who had been very late for a meeting. She remembered their previous conversation and cringed at the fact that he'd been right. Al and James refused to leave. She could have challenged them individually, gotten them to bend to her will to be left alone, but not together. James was as ridiculous as he was crazily protective.

Al, too, but so much worse because they had always been together, in both age and proximity.

And speaking of a protective streak, despite Rose's long-winded protests, her mum had cancelled everything on her schedule for the rest of the day and told her secretary that under _no conditions_ was she to be disturbed.

Not by Owl, Floo, or Patronus.

She'd instructed Al and James to go back to their respective flats and change while she accompanied Rose back to hers. The expert-level of restraint her mum had levelled up to was impressive; after all, she'd said nothing about the messy state of Rose's flat while she showered.

Twenty minutes later, Rose emerged, feeling far less shitty and more level-headed in a cosy doughnut onesie Jane had bought her—_so they could match_. Al and James were changed and waiting in her newly cleaned sitting room.

After all, her mother couldn't help herself.

Her mum had left to fill her dad in on what had happened and likely had to physically stop him from marching into the Department of Mysteries and punching Barracus in the face. While she was gone, Al had fussed until she let him put balm on the parts of her arms that were raw.

There wasn't much fight in her and the balm felt good, so that was fine. James had looked on; oddly mellow when he helped roll her sleeves back down. Nothing at all like the cousin who'd once shoved her into a bush and laughed about it until she'd started screaming for her dad.

So many things had changed lately anyway. What was one more?

By the time her mum had returned, dressed in denims and a thin jumper with sunglasses on top of her head, Rose was tucked between her cousins on the sofa; her head on James' shoulder, her legs draped across Al's lap, and each hand gripping one of theirs.

They were watching a movie.

Or rather…

By the time her mum came through the Floo, the movie was watching them.

Because they were asleep.

Mum had refused to let them sleep the day away or rot in front of the telly. Instead, she took them to lunch at Rose's favourite seafood buffet. No one—except her mum—batted an eye as Rose slathered her feelings in garlic butter while wearing her damn onesie, because why not?

She'd had a long day. Week. _Month_.

After lunch, they Apparated to the beach on a whim and with two beaded bags, but her mum's bag had been the only one packed with the necessary items. Camber Sands had seemed like a good idea in theory, but not so much in practice. The clouds had dispersed and the sun was out, but the beach had been too cool for swimwear and lounging; too windy for an umbrella to keep them out of direct sunlight.

Perfect onesie weather.

The benefit the cool weather was that there weren't many people out so Al and James had room to toss a ball around in the sand…and if they used a little magic, no one was the wiser.

Rose and her mum looked on in amusement while the brothers threw the ball harder and harder to see which one would drop it first. Huddled together under a charmed blanket, the warmth had made Rose, who was stuffed from lunch, drift in and out of sleep; her head comfortably tucked in the crook of her mum's shoulder. She ran her fingers through Rose's hair and hummed a tune.

Despite their location, her mum looked composed, whimsical, and fiendish all at the same time; thoughtful in a way that reminded her of a general the night before battle.

"You're not planning anything, are you?" Rose had asked, throat a bit dry from the wind.

"Of course, I am," she'd replied, voice as cool as the ocean water. "I'm _always_ planning."

Rose hadn't said much else after that and her mother followed her lead, but the silence between them wasn't frayed at the seams or scattered in a million pieces like usual.

It felt like a new beginning.

Being there had been strangely nice. Her mum was rarely spontaneous; always busy and forever balancing work and pleasure, time with family and friends, choices of priorities and time alone. Everything and everyone had a place and a time and only _she_ knew where the pieces fit. It was a juggling act that was older than Rose, but one she'd perfected without a Time Turner.

The fact that she'd broken all her rules for Rose had meant more than she would allow herself to express. So, to thank her, Rose had hugged her around the middle in a move that had made her gasp in surprise, but she'd hugged her back just as tight.

Rose blotted out Barracus, his demand, the near Unforgivable, the day itself, and _everything_; focusing instead on the sound of the waves and the steady rhythm of their beating hearts.

Hours passed like that in the blink of an eye before they decided to pack up and leave.

James and Al were going wherever Rose went, so when her mum had said, "Your dad's cooking," it seemed like her evening plans of alone time were up in smoke before they were fully formed.

So, they went back to her parents' house where her dad had decided it was the perfect night to make fish and chips: his only edible meal. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey arrived just after they had. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny arrived soon after; her uncle looked much better than he had earlier, and he greeted her with a hug like normal.

And if Rose held on a little longer, a little tighter, neither of them spoke about it.

Besides, if it hadn't been for him, her day might have gone a little differently.

She shuddered at the thought.

Outside of that, no one spoke of the elephant in the room, which had been a relief. She wasn't trying to have another meltdown. In fact, the only question that gave her pause was when Aunt Audrey asked: "Where's Scorpius?"

"He's having dinner with his mum's family," Al answered, looking at Rose for some unknown reason. "He couldn't get out of it."

Not much of a surprise there.

Family dinners with the Greengrasses were as dull as they were unavoidable.

Uncle George had come with Roxanne, the youngest of her cousins. She was fifteen years younger than Fred, who was two years out of Hogwarts and playing Quidditch in the States. Aunt Angelina was away, covering a Quidditch match in Germany, and without her around, Roxanne ran wild in the name of fostering creativity—Uncle George's words. She'd drawn a picture of Al that made him look like a confused sea creature, and Rose had laughed for the first time in _ages_ while Al chased Roxanne around the house.

Everyone else went on like nothing was amiss, talking and laughing in separate conversations; her squeals when he caught her were loud. And Rose felt sane in the chaos.

She'd talked to Hugo on her mum's mobile.

He didn't video call much, preferring to Fire Call or send letters via Owl—the odd traditionalist. However, that day he'd called. Rose wouldn't deny that seeing her brother's face had made things a little better. He talked about his classes and projects; not once hinting that he had been told about her day except when he had told her to take care of herself before Roxanne demanded his attention to show off her artwork, as she often did.

After dinner, James, Uncle Percy, and Uncle Harry cleaned up. Uncle George had taken a tired Roxanne home to get ready for school. Her dad listened to a match on the Wireless, talking about his glory days as a Quidditch player to everyone who listened, as always. Al and her mum had set up a board game.

Better than trivia where Mum slaughtered them all.

While everyone else played, their laughter and arguments echoing throughout the entire house, Aunt Ginny had found her in her old room sitting in the windowsill; lost in her thoughts from the day. She sat behind Rose and quietly brushed then braided her windblown hair into two braids that came together into a single one.

She stayed long after the job was finished.

Their relationship was different. Aunt Ginny seemed to float in and out, but was always there when she was needed. She seemed to understand Rose's moods and hidden self-doubt; voicing her own old insecurities from her teenaged years and before. When Rose was home on holiday and exasperated with her mum, she would sit while Rose hexed her frustrations out on a practice dummy.

Her aunt never said too much, and that night was no different.

She rested her chin on Rose's shoulder; her presence reassuring and calming just as it had been the last time she had found herself bound. Numbly, Rose rolled up her sleeves and truly looked at the hot, jagged rope burns; the angry welts and bruises.

It was…almost as if she were looking at someone else's arms.

Not her bruises. Not her pain. Not her problem.

_But it_ _was._

And the salve she rubbed on them cooled Rose's inflamed skin all the same.

When she finished, her aunt left the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and quietly said, "Don't detach yourself from how you feel. This is something that has happened to you, Rose. You're allowed to feel the way you want, but don't let it poison your mind. Don't let it control you."

She nodded slowly, not really knowing how to feel. "Think the bruises will go away?"

"With time, it'll fade, as all things do."

"And the bruises you can't see?" Rose whispered with her first Unforgivable and the near miss on her mind.

"Those take a little longer, and while you may never forget it, they will fade if you let them." _Fade_, Rose had finished in her head, _but never truly vanish_. Aunt Ginny carefully looked at her wrist and rubbed salve on a bit of skin she missed. "I'm sure there's a spell—"

"I don't want any more magic used on me."

Unforgivables and reviving spells. Magic to fix her body and her mind. Binding spells.

She'd had _enough_.

"Understandable." Suddenly in one fluid motion, she took Rose by the hands, squeezing them gently. "Tonight will be hard for you, so don't spend it alone. It's okay to take comfort in something familiar. It'll help set things right." She gave Rose a half-vial of Dreamless Draught to take the edge off, kissed her forehead, and left her to her thoughts.

Much later, when her mum invited to stay, Rose declined with her aunt's words on her mind and went to her cousin's flat instead. Al had offered his bed, but Rose drank the draught and figured she was better off in Scorpius'.

The choice had been simple, all things considered. Her cousin snored louder than the Hogwarts Express and she trusted Scorpius' ability to regularly launder his sheets.

Although cluttered, his room was always clean—unlike Al's.

Not that Rose could talk, considering the state of her _entire_ flat, but there was something that had always been welcoming about Scorpius' room. Perhaps it was the bed and abstract paintings and posters. Maybe it was the desk in the corner, the dressers, and bedside tables; all decorated with little knick-knacks and pictures and keepsakes he'd kept over the years. Or the rows and rows of books that were bursting off the shelves.

So that was where she had fallen asleep.

And where she'd woken up that morning.

Only now, she wasn't alone.

* * *

Scorpius slept on his stomach with the covers drawn up to his neck, despite radiating heat like a furnace. He had one arm under the pillows and his head turned away from her; his hair wild but breathing steadily. Like always, Rose had woken in the centre of the bed, close enough to draw from his heat, but not too close.

All of a sudden, the last few weeks rushed back to the forefront of her brain and…

It had seemed like a good idea last night, but now she felt strange about her decision. Then she felt ridiculous about feeling strange. But then, when Rose thought about it further, and realised her strange feelings were justified. After all, Rose had climbed in the bed of the very same best friend that she'd_ snogged_ and then promptly never mentioned it again.

In all fairness, he hadn't either.

Weeks had passed and it wasn't as if they hadn't spoken at all; they had at length.

In all respects, things were as they had always been. At least as it pertained to Scorpius. He'd fulfilled the terms of their agreement at his party: two movies and he cleaned up all the Howlers in her sitting room. They'd gone to watch the Ravenclaw verses Slytherin Quidditch match together and sat in the Alumni booth with Al and Jane, who had taken it all in with child-like wonder.

She'd simply _glowed_ when she met Hagrid and all their Hogwarts-aged cousins.

They'd seen four movies at the cinema, had three game nights with their friends, and two lunches with Lavender when Rose had visited him at work. Scorpius had attended a pottery-making class with her when Jane couldn't make it. He'd made a wobbly-looking vase to match her unsightly bowl, but when she tried to trash it, he'd nagged her until she gave it to him. And he kept it; just as she'd kept his vase as the ugly centrepiece on her kitchen table.

Her bowl was currently on his bedside table; a holding place for his watch and work badge.

All that and not _once_ had Scorpius given the smallest inclination that he wanted to talk about his birthday. And while Rose was more than a little curious about his silence, she was _not_ going to open _that_ can of damn worms. She was too raw from yesterday; too on edge.

What would she say anyway?

Truthfully, in that moment, Rose had done it to prove a point about how that picture was _nothing_, but the rest? Nothing and no one to blame except the irritable mood she'd been that night. And the party itself, which had no doubt put Scorpius in a bad mood.

In a way, Rose was relieved by the inaction from that particular corner of her life. She had no capacity for anything else. Silence had been easy; natural in a way that was bizarre. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, Rose _still_ cringed whenever that night pushed aside her anxiety and sat on the first row of her thoughts.

Like now.

She started to stage a tactical retreat back to her side of the bed when—_of fucking course_—Scorpius _moved_, turning his head at the movement of covers and sheets. She froze when he groggily blinked at her, voice hoarse from lack of use. "Rose?"

"Ah, in the flesh."

He grabbed his glasses off the bedside table, using them to peek at the time. He was practically blind without them. "It's seven, why are you awake?"

"No idea."

Scorpius yawned, sat them back down, and rolled onto his side so he faced her. "How do you feel?"

"Like it's too damn early for honesty."

He made a lazy noise that was neither in agreement or disagreement.

Rose figured it was a fine moment to rip the bandage off, so to speak. "How much do you know?"

"My dad told me…_enough_." And his tone was rather dark; a contrast to the almost soft look on his sleep-wrinkled face. "How do your arms feel?"

She shrugged because she had a lot of feelings she couldn't articulate.

"Would you like me to take a look?"

"Not yet, I just…want to…but not now," she stammered.

Scorpius said nothing, even allowing his eyes to shut once he drew the covers over their heads to block out the sunlight pouring into the room from the windows in his bedroom. Birthday actions aside, he was _still_ Scorpius; and Rose, as always, was drawn to him by the pull of familiarity that came from years of friendship.

In the darkness, she found herself unable to focus on her prior awkwardness and basked in the reassurance of his calm and undemanding presence. There was no pressure. He scooted to the point where his pillow stopped and hers began. They were close, but not touching.

He smelled like soap and books and something spicy that was all him.

Rose closed her eyes and felt herself start to drift back to sleep. Despite her prior attempt at retreating, she felt warm and relaxed and couldn't get a sense of anything beyond that feeling.

Nothing had changed and perhaps it never would, which was a relief in a—

The thought died when, Scorpius idly reached out in the darkness and touched her hand. A simple gesture; something he'd done before and never thought twice about. Like always, his fingers were warm, grip firm, but there wasn't a word in her vocabulary for how she felt.

The closest she got was something akin to…

A low, foreign noise made them freeze.

It was almost haunting; like a drawn-out toll from a gong that reverberated all around them.

It faded as soon as she locked in on the sound.

"What was _that_?"

"No idea," Scorpius murmured in response.

But then it happened again, at a completely different pitch that hung in the air. It seemed to resonate through the room.

They threw the covers off and scrambled out of bed to investigate the noise only to find Jane in the centre of a blanket in the living room, on her knees, with seven brass-looking bowls on cushions in front of her and a small mallet in her hand. She was dressed in a paisley dress that was carefully tucked and her hair was braided in pigtails; bangs trimmed so they wouldn't blind her.

_Again_.

Her eyes were closed, and she looked like the picture of strange serenity.

She tapped the bowl with her mallet and it emitted a louder hum that echoed in her ears.

Al sat at the kitchen table, slowly sipping on what looked like some of Jane's herbal tea; tea that Rose wouldn't touch again for all the Galleons in bloody _Gringotts_. His eyes were fixed on Jane and there was a blush resting high on his cheeks.

He looked smitten to the core.

Rose wordlessly watched the bizarre sight. Scorpius was behind her, now wearing his glasses.

"Um?" He still sounded confused.

"Yeah," was all Rose could say.

It was obvious that her besotted cousin had no intentions to intervene. He had hearts in his eyes.

"What's all this?" she asked Jane curiously.

A slow smile spread across her face as she opened her eyes languidly; her voice as serene as always, "These are Tibetan Singing Bowls. I've spelled their sound to be amplified." At the blank look on Rose's face, she continued explaining, "I'm aligning the flat's chakras—and by extension—_yours_, which are all misaligned…more than usual." And she sounded distressed by it in a way that only Jane could. "It's always important to be aligned."

"Yeah," Al chimed in from the table. "Chakras are important!"

He almost _preened_ when Jane blushed and smiled at him.

"Sure, they are." Scorpius drawled, looking from Albus to Jane, then back. "I haven't had enough caffeine for this." And he slid past Rose as he headed to the kitchen.

Rose grinned. Scorpius had always been so composed and humble; more so when they'd first met him. He'd come a long way from being painfully put together to walking around with one pyjama leg rolled up, the other down; scratching his wild head and pulling at the collar of his nightshirt.

"Pick up your feet," she blurted out. "Static electricity is the worst for unsuspecting victims."

He threw her a strange, questioning look. Then, he probably figured it wasn't worth travelling into the rabbit hole to find the answer and walked on. After passing his best friend with a shake of his head, Scorpius disappeared into the kitchen.

Jane was waiting patiently.

Ah, she wasn't done talking.

"You were saying something?"

"I was saying that it's my duty as your friend to get you back in alignment," she smiled, soft and tranquil. "It's my day off and we're going to spend it fixing your energy."

"Sounds like I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice." She studied Rose from across the room, a frown blooming on her face. "But I wouldn't be a good friend to you if I left you alone while your energy is this dark."

She thought about it.

Al and Scorpius would be at work soon and she…would be left alone with her thoughts and the marks on her arms.

"Rose?" Scorpius called from the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Make it strong." After all, she was going to need it with what Jane had in store for her. She sat on the sofa, not too far from where Jane sat on the mat, carefully choosing her next bowl based on just how wonky Rose's energy was. "Carry on with this energy cleanse or whatever."

Jane grinned at her agreement, waving her hand over each bowl as if she were searching for the one with the right wavelength. She caught sight of her cousin, eyebrow lifting slowly. Al, who had not only voluntarily _brewed_ the herbal tea she'd forced Rose to drink for health benefits, but drank it while looking on; utterly content with his life choices.

Bloody hell, he had it _bad_.

Finally, Jane settled on one and struck the side of it with a different, smaller mallet. A low tone echoed off the walls and seemed to rattle its way through her skull.

And, well, huh…she felt a little…_something_.

Probably a placebo effect.

"_Oi!_" came Scorpius' exasperated shout from the kitchen. "I thought we _agreed_ that you wouldn't use the coffeemaker to make tea! Now I have to clean it out! _By hand!_"

Albus cringed. "Sorry, mate."

"We have a kettle!"

"I couldn't find it," he frowned. "You keep changing everything around!"

"I do not! You just keep putting everything back wrong. It's always been in the third cabinet from the right."

Jane picked up the largest bowl and struck it. The sound that emitted, Rose felt it in her chest. It drowned out their squabbling and the noise Scorpius made in their kitchen. Minutes and several tones from Jane's Tibetan Bowls later, she smelled coffee, and not too long after, Scorpius emerged from the kitchen with two mugs, glaring at his roommate.

Al smiled innocently.

"Here." He handed Rose the cup in his right hand. "Black, like your soul, with seven sugar cubes."

"Perfect," Rose accepted the mug, inhaling. "Ah, sweet murder."

Chuckling, Scorpius sat on the sofa next to her, taking a few sips from his own cup.

Rose drank her coffee different each day and it depended on her mood. When she was having a good morning, she wanted all the sugar and milk to the point where it was more milk than coffee. But when she'd had—_or was having_—a shit day, Rose wanted it…well, _exactly_ the way he'd described. Any ratio of sugar and milk between those two extremes depended on the day of the week, the hour, her energy level, and a series of scenarios that were as complex as her rationale behind her belief that waffles were just pancakes with abs.

Nevertheless, that morning, Scorpius got it right and she was finished in minutes.

She sat her cup on the table.

Jane hit another bowl and Rose shut her eyes from the surprising sensation of the vibrations as they rattled her from the inside out. Or whatever they were supposed to do. Fucking hell, how was that supposed to work anyway? She inhaled and exhaled, just like she had practiced outside in the field behind The Burrow yesterday.

And well, okay. Perhaps that was the right combination.

With each tone from Jane's Tibetan bowls, Rose found herself drifting into what she thought meditation would feel like. It was strange; the way each sound vibrated through her. She leaned against Scorpius without much thought, turning her body and tucking in alongside his.

That was better.

After a while, he wrapped an arm around her.

Rose's thoughts were migrant, drifting back to that morning when he'd asked her if she wanted him to look at her arms. She wasn't ready then, but now she was. Rose quietly presented one of her arms for his evaluation. The look he gave her was speculative in a way that made her feel as if her arm wasn't the only thing Scorpius was assessing.

Jane struck the side of another bowl.

"I'm ready," she told him.

He nodded, placing his cup on the table next to hers.

They went to move at the same time in different directions, causing her forehead bumped against his jaw. Scorpius chuckled when she swore lowly, rubbing the sore spot on her head just like he'd done to his jaw. And for some reason, Rose found herself making stupid mental notes about the slight laughter lines crowding his eyes and asinine memos about how he seemed tired despite his sincerity.

What did that even _mean_?

She figured she'd be better off if she showered first. Scorpius agreed and provided the towel and clothes for her to change into until she went back to her flat: a pair of pyjama pants she'd left a while ago and one of his Falmouth Falcons shirts. Rose didn't look at her arms once while she used his soap and shampoo—because Al never bothered to buy his own—to wash herself and her hair. Instead, she focused on the tones that came from Jane's amplified Singing Bowls, letting the strange sounds echo.

Ten minutes later, she emerged dressed with wet hair, and feeling a bit better.

Rose found Scorpius standing by his dresser. His back was to her as he shut all the open drawers; his work robes and everything he needed laid out on the bed. He hadn't heard her entrance with the sounds coming from the living room that stuttered his movements, but that was fine. Rose sat on the opposite end and waited, but not for long. Her legs were folded as if she were sitting on her yoga mat when Scorpius came around and stood in front of her.

She looked up at him. "What time do you have to go in?"

"Ten." Scorpius answered. "They have me reporting to the Muggle Maladies department for the next two weeks for half-day trainings. With what we know about the dagger, they want all Healers and Assistants to know the basics about non-magical medical intervention."

Which was smart.

Scorpius examined her arms; his movements careful and confident as they both looked at her arms for the first time that day. He didn't react like Al and James yesterday: compassionate, but deeply uncomfortable. He didn't like what he was seeing, but his touch was clinical as he made sure nothing was amiss.

Truthfully, they looked…well, still raw and bruised; warm to the touch, but a bit better. He rubbed a bit of the salve he'd made with his dad on the bits of her skin that were chafed and inflamed. It smelled like mint and eucalyptus, and both cooled and numbed her skin.

"It doesn't hurt much," Rose told him absently.

His touch remained detached, but his tone wasn't. "I can heal this, but you don't want that."

She wanted to be surprised by his insight, but he'd been tuned into her airwaves for so long already. Rose had nothing to hide from him. "No, I don't."

As he worked, his tongue slid in between his pursed lips in concentration. Rose watched as he brushed his fingers across one of the nastier bruises on her left forearm with a touch so tender that she barely felt it, but gasped anyway.

Scorpius looked at her, eyes sharp and assessing. "Did that hurt?" The look on his face as he gently held her right arm was apologetic and…something she couldn't articulate.

Jane was still busy clanging away on her bowls to align their chakras, but his question had left her as off balance as she'd been earlier when she'd tried to describe that…that_ thing_; the one with no word, meaning, or definition.

With his free hand, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze to draw her attention. "Rose?"

"I'm okay."

And she meant it because honesty had never been as easy as it was with Scorpius.

Her problems were there, and she sure as _hell_ hadn't forgotten about yesterday with Barracus. Or about what they wanted from her and the reasons why. Or the dagger, which was never far from the forefront of her mind. Or what had happened on his birthday. However, right then, the voices and the shouting whispers were muted and floating around her in the atmosphere.

They would return and demand her attention, Rose knew it, but for her mental health's sake, she decided to deal with the problems once they got to the front of her mind's queue.

Mr Draco had been right, after all.

She couldn't keep everything to herself and had no idea why she had tried to in the first place.

Rose distributed the truth like candy: everyone got a piece of the story, but no one got the entire thing in every ugly detail. She needed to give the entire bag away and it couldn't be given to Al or James. It _had_ to be Scorpius.

No matter how Rose wanted to feel awkward about his birthday, she needed her friend.

"Can we talk?"

Scorpius sat the salve back on the bed side table. "Do you really have to ask?"

No, she didn't.

It was instinct the way Rose leaned against him; trusting him as she always had. And while Jane banged on her bowls with her mallets, she talked to him.

Really talked.

She cracked herself open and allowed him to see the very _core_ of her. Darkness, ugliness, fear and all.

Rose spoke of that night in St. Mungo's. Things he knew, and things he didn't. She spoke of the ward's effect and what she witnessed; the fight that ensued. The Unforgivable and the way every fibre of her being _burned_; the fear she felt. The fractured state of her mind when she'd regained consciousness; her true belief in the fake memories.

Her voice cracked as she told him about her not-so recent insomnia, the night terrors, and the return of the anxiety that kept her mind running while submerged in water. She laid herself bare when she told him that she still felt like herself, but there was a twinge of her that felt different; _changed_ and she was afraid she wouldn't be the same Rose anymore, but something darker, heavier, and damaged.

With a lump in her throat, Rose talked about yesterday. From her talk with his dad and the events that led up to her uncle breaking down the door and ending her Inquiry. Rose didn't tell Scorpius _everything_; some of it was, after all, still hard to speak about or even understand. And yet…she told him why they wanted her, what they wanted from her, but couldn't quite divulge the depths they had been willing to sink to for their greater good.

And Scorpius did what he always did.

He listened.

Rose could tell he was troubled by the inner turmoil she'd hid behind her humour, embarrassed that he hadn't recognised her subtle cues and distress calls, and angry about what had happened with Barracus. It wasn't easy for him to listen to her, but from the very first few stumbled words, Scorpius remained as steadfast as he always had been.

And that had inspired even more trust in him.

He listened without interruption or remarks; listened without shifting uncomfortably when her words became too _personal_. Scorpius just held on and absorbed it all with his hand on her back; his chin on top of her mostly dry head. Rose held on, heart pounding, breath beginning to slow.

And while verbalising everything had made it almost _too_ real; it also lifted the burden—the _heaviness_—that had been weighing her down for _weeks_.

They were beyond words so Scorpius spoke to her without them.

In the quiet, he told her that she was strong, but it was okay to feel vulnerable.

Okay to lift the veil and expose her fears; okay to be hurt and let them see her wounds.

In the silence, he told her that she was brave, but it was okay to be afraid.

It didn't mean that she lacked courage. Courage, her uncle had said, meant being afraid and doing it anyway.

In the calm, he told her that she was indomitable, not damaged, but it was okay to need someone.

Okay to trust her friends and family; okay to lean on them because she had their support.

His support.

And his silent words gently awoke in her a quiet intention harboured deep inside of her: a desire to accept herself for who she was on that day, in that moment. Accept herself: changes, bruises, fears and all.

Rose wrapped her arms around him as Jane's clanging bowls set her mind adrift. She was comfortable in her liberation. Free. Easy. They were two friends sharing space and time. Rose focused on the warmth, the smell of mint from the salve, and on the buzzing in the back of her head that, at least for the moment, wouldn't be ignored.

It was hard to describe, whatever that thing was, but it didn't feel wrong.

It was okay.

Everything was okay.

And for once, the world—or at least her tiny portion of it—was truly okay.

Jane struck another bowl with her mallet and the sound vibrated around them.

"How long do you think she'll go?" Scorpius asked softly.

"Until our chakras are aligned, _duh_." Rose snickered. "Are yours aligned?"

"Maybe," he replied and felt his chuckle rumble in his chest. "How about yours?"

Well, her world wasn't as tipped on its axis as it had been the day before.

So, perhaps it was.

* * *

Sometimes, in the oddest of moments, Rose forgot how bloody _strange_ Jane was.

The thought carried Rose through a massage at Jane's favourite wizarding massage parlour, which was run by someone far odder. If that at all was possible. She'd tsked at Rose's flaky energy and probably would have had better success if she'd beaten the tension from her with a Beater's bat. They told Jane to bring her back when she was balanced and Rose…well, she had nothing nice to say, so Jane dragged her out before she could speak her mind.

Lunch in Diagon Alley was a far better option than massages because Rose was always _hungry_ and her stomach waited for no man. She wanted ice cream from Florean Fortescue's after, and it took an extra scoop of pistachio for Jane to convince Rose to let herself be dragged into a salt cave…_for health benefits_.

Jane breathed in deeply once they got there. "I can feel the negative ions vanishing."

Rose only looked around and scowled. "I'd rather colour in the lines than be here around all this salt with no chips."

"Oh really?" The look on Jane's face had been both fond and scary. The combination shouldn't have been possible, but she was always doing impossible things.

Which was how Rose found herself following the lead from the instructor as they painted a damn dinosaur and sipped sweet wine with twenty other participants _and_ Quincy, who had joined them after finishing a freelance project early. She ignored the concerned look on his face and the way he glanced at her arms, which were covered in long sleeves despite the warm day.

She didn't want any looks or questions, only the presence of her friends.

Rose looked over at Quincy's canvas.

His dinosaur looked like a balloon with legs, but hers didn't look much better.

Oh, and Jane—wait, she was painting a picture of a blue _lion_.

Of bloody _course_ she was. And it looked better than both of their pictures combined.

Jane sat back, peering at her painting thoughtfully. "Do you think Al will like it?"

Quincy snorted from Rose's right where he was contemplating between a bottle of white wine and red. "He'll like anything you give him," and chose the red, pouring himself a hefty glass.

He offered some to Rose, who declined.

It was never a good idea to mix.

Jane didn't catch the hint Quincy had all but thrown at her. "He gave me a white camellia plant last week and yellow tulip so I want to do something nice for him. I love camellias, but yellow tulips are my favourite. It means _'sunshine in your smile'_. Lions are his favourite animal and his favourite colour is blue so…" she looked extremely proud of herself, bangs and all.

Rose and Quincy exchanged looks, then argued with a series of hand gestures about who was going to say something about the Al and Jane situation.

They played a quick game of paper, scissors, rock that she won. She celebrated her victory with a sip of wine. So sweet.

"What does a white camellia mean?" Quincy asked carefully after he glared at Rose. Such a sore loser.

"Adoration," and she gave her lion whiskers.

Rose's brow twitched. There were two things she knew for certain:

One: his choice had been no accident and,

Two: their Nan was involved.

After all, Al wasn't _that_ thoughtful.

"Do you like my lion?"

She answered after taking another drink of wine. "It's very blue…_and_ lion_-y_."

"Perfect," Jane smiled and looked over at Rose's cartoonish dinosaur. "You should give your painting to Scorpius."

"Why?" Rose's made a face, confused. "So, he can make fun of it?"

_Roxanne_ could have done better.

Jane looked at her, head tilted to the side as if she were questioning Rose's intelligence. "It's a thank you gift, of course. After all, he helped you align your throat and solar plexus chakras this morning."

Rose just blinked at her. "It's like you're speaking another language."

"It's far deeper than I can explain, but…" She turned back to her painting and drew another whisker. "Your throat represents our ability to communicate and solar plexus symbolises your self-confidence and energy; both of which were balanced when you two came out of his room."

Quincy spewed red wine all over his canvas, streaking his already hideous painting.

Rose hit him in the back several times. "All right?"

"Went down the wrong way," he mumbled and it _looked_ like a lie if she ever saw one.

Jane seemed to be humming a song in her head as she cleaned her brush in the water. She tilted her head as she stared at her half-finished painting and said, "You and Scorpius have a special relationship," as if she were saying she preferred leather over dragonhide.

Rose's paintbrush went askew, drawing a black line down the centre of her dinosaur's misshaped head.

First of all, what the _entire fuck_?

Second: where had _that_ come from?

She just gaped at her friend, who tried to blow the bangs from her eyes without success. Quincy poured himself another glass and quickly gulped it down, keeping his eyes carefully averted. The ass. Jane started comparing two shades of green for the lion's eyes like she didn't feel the heat from Rose's glare.

Truth be told, she probably didn't.

"Um what?" Rose finally asked. "We're normal friends."

Quincy couldn't seem to drink properly because he started coughing again.

Jane chose the darker of the two shades of green and bobbed along to the song in her head. "You're closer than friends, but not family."

"Well, _duh._" Rose huffed in mild annoyance, still confused about where the hell her comment had come from.

"Buggering _hell_. Since it's up to me to address it, I will…" Quincy said dramatically, as if he were doing them a favour out the kindness of his heart.

Rose looked at him as if he'd lost his mind as he took a deep and theatrical breath. It was as if he were preparing to say something deep and meaningful like they were in a romantic comedy. She readied herself to break the leg off his stool and _beat him with it_ if he got too melodramatic.

"As long as I've known you, which admittedly hasn't been long, you and Scorpius have always had this…_thing_. I saw it when we arrived at the rave. Actually, I first saw it when I saw you two talking at the New Year's Eve party after you ran from me—"

"For the _last time_, I didn't run!" Rose argued.

He was never going to let her live that down.

"_Anyway_," Quincy continued on, still humoured. "I saw you and Scorpius together after I chatted you up and I…you two…" he struggled and trailed off for a moment. "Honestly, I didn't believe Bill when he told me you were single, but figured he knew better. Then Lily contacted me and gave me your address to escort you to the rave—" Rose scowled and Quincy snickered. "She means well."

"She's a pest."

Quincy didn't agree or disagree; he just kept speaking. "At the rave, when we were waiting for James and Matilda, there was this _thing_—"

"A thing?" Rose frowned absently at her painting that was almost a lost cause without magically altering the canvas.

Which was absolutely _not_ the plan around so many Muggles.

"Yes, a thing and it didn't feel platonic."

She eyed him; head tilted in an attempt to pretend to look like she understood about what he was saying. In actuality, she was lost because _he wasn't making sense_. While they were waiting on James and Matilda, Scorpius had looked tense so she'd hugged him. That was it.

What was the big deal?

"It's hard to explain." Quincy rubbed the back of his neck like Al sometimes did when he was uncomfortable. "You two have a deep and intense same-wavelength bond…_thing_." He finished with a shrug that looked a bit lost. "We've all seen it. You both sometimes forget we're there."

Rose observed him with a face blank like a mannequin. Then she started laughing because he was certifiably _insane_. "You're joking, right?"

Quincy just blinked at her like a damn owl.

Okay, so no, he wasn't.

Still, she laughed on because what did he know? He had already admitted that he hadn't known them long. Quincy had only been around regularly since the rave when everything had gone to hell. It felt like ages ago, but was actually a bit over a month ago. Rose looked to Jane—who had been around a bit longer—to make sure she'd found him just as ridiculous, but only found her nodding in agreement.

"So…" Rose looked between them both; her laughter having died somewhere in the dead space of their silence. "You're both _mad_, so it seems insanity is contagious. Get well soon."

Jane hummed chipperly in agreement. "You, too, because you've caught it."

"I have _not_," Rose argued.

Quincy chuckled. "You have if you think that you and Scorpius are _just_ friends."

How many times did she need to say it? "We are!"

They had been since before the Hogwarts Express made it to Hogsmeade for the first time. That was ten years ago. Of _course,_ she and Scorpius were close; they'd been in each other's world for _years_, growing and changing and figuring their shit out. Al, too.

They had been friends longer than they _hadn't_.

Hell, one could argue that Al and Scorpius were even closer. They were like _brothers_. Al knew what was on Scorpius' mind before the thought popped in his mind. It was so bad that, at one point, James _hated_ Scorpius out of jealousy and spite.

But her and Scorpius? Deep and intense? _Not bloody likely._

Before the dagger had come into their lives and kicked down the door to her existence that involved arguing with her mum, getting by, and changing jobs like socks, they made fun of each other a lot. Sure, they had serious moments, but overall, they laughed and debated over nonsense.

Or rather, she would argue her point and he'd sometimes drop one-liners that blew a hole in her perspective. Rose remembered Fourth Year when she'd pushed Scorpius into the Black Lake after he _ruined_ her rant about unscented candles not having a purpose in the Muggle world by saying, _"Um, light?"_

But that was the definition of their friendship.

They worked, but there wasn't anything particularly special or different about it.

"All I'm saying is I'm not as close with my best mate, Raina, as you are with Scorpius."

Rose's eyebrow waggled. "You have friends? What a twist!"

Quincy just laughed at her jab and shoved her shoulder lightly. "She lives in Amsterdam and you're _hilarious_ when you're diverting the conversation."

She kicked him in the leg, but her legs weren't long enough to make it hurt. "I'm—"

"Trying to distract us from the point, which is something you do, apparently."

"_Oi!_" Rose kicked him again and he just laughed. "I just say what comes to mind. Do with that what you will."

Jane perked up, smiling excitedly. "Oh, me too! Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be grass…"

She and Quincy exchanged looks while Jane just stared off into space wistfully. "Well, that got weird quick."

"Jane," Quincy snapped his fingers. "Don't let her draw you into her _web of randomness_," he warned theatrically.

Rose rolled her eyes.

Jane seemed to shake herself from the thought and smiled as she dug into her pink bag for a clip to keep her bangs out her face. She looked ridiculous, and Rose smiled at her until she said, "I am not grass, just like you and Scorpius aren't just friends. You have silent conversation and you hold hands." And she flashed a beaming smile before picking up her brush and painting green eyes on her blue lion.

Quincy looked proud, then he eyed Rose, awaiting her rebuttal.

It was a stupid argument.

"_Loads_ of people hold hands and have silent conversations with their best friends. Al—"

Jane whistled a short tune as she contemplated her lion's background. "You've known Al your entire life. Your energy with him is different, so you can't use him as an example."

Rose chewed at her fingernail until Quincy swatted her hand with a clean paintbrush. She glared at him and he just smiled. Rolling her eyes, Rose turned to Jane, who was staring at her as if she had more questions than answers.

Well, that made two of them.

What were they talking about again? Oh, right. Their energy or some rubbish.

"With Al, your energy is warm…in a familial sense."

Okay, that made sense. "And Scorpius? Our energy is—"

"Charged," Jane said as if she were telling her that the sky was blue. Then she went back to painting, making long strokes with her paintbrush on the edge of her canvas. "It's why you both sometimes forget that other people are in the room; why you two are so tuned into each other."

"That's…" Rose frowned. "It's not on purpose."

Jane made a noncommittal noise and picked out a few colours bright enough for Al to see her painting from space, setting them aside for future use. She bobbed her head along to whatever song was playing in her head. Then she stopped abruptly; her focus zeroing in on Rose like it always did when she was reading her energy or whatever.

"Your energy isn't as balanced as it is when he's around. Don't you feel it?"

Rose just blinked.

And then again.

And one more time.

No. She still didn't make any bloody sense at all. What the hell was she supposed to feel? So, she asked, "Feel what?"

Quincy burst out laughing. "I thought he was exaggerating, bloody hell, _he wasn't_."

Her confusion was rapidly turning into frustration. "What are you going on about _now_?"

"Nothing." He sounded like a mix of bewildered and humoured. "Just…nothing. _Wow_." Quincy shook his head and nudged her with his foot. "You aren't nerdy like Scorpius, so I forget how brilliant you _truly_ are. I've never seen anyone absorb information the way you have with your mum's research."

"Um, thanks?"

He sounded so much in awe of her that it made Rose uncomfortable. She wanted to joke about the time she walked into a wall. She wondered if he still would find her brilliant when she told him about the time two months ago when she tore her flat apart while hunting for a pair of denims…that she was wearing.

She sipped her wine and passively listened to his rambling.

"I suppose you can't be brilliant_ and_…well, maybe some people are, but not you…" Quincy seemed to lose track of his thoughts. Likely because of the wine, if his flushed cheeks had anything to do with it. "Jane? A little assistance here."

Rose looked over at Jane who was mixing colours. "What is he going on about?"

Jane smiled serenely, which was a contrast to her blunt answer. "He's saying that you're emotionally dense."

"_Oi!_" She whirled around and punched Quincy in the arm so hard he nearly dropped his wine.

He groaned in pain and rubbed his arm, wincing, but his wine was saved. "_Not_ helpful, Jane."

She just smiled serenely and said, "I think I'll make a sun. Lions like the sun."

Rose was too busy glaring at him to focus on Jane's strangeness. "I'm not too dense to know that hitting you felt good, now _am I_?"

"I think you have a firm grasp on wrath," she said as she cheerfully admired her work. "What Quincy is talking about are _romantic_ feelings."

"Thank you, Jane." Quincy almost cheered. "We've now arrived at the _entire point_ of this conversation."

Rolling her eyes, Rose tuned them out and went back to her picture, trying to salvage it. She ended up deciding to paint the canvas black instead. It could be the outline of a dinosaur. _Or something._

"Do you?" Jane asked. Rose felt her eyes on her. And Quincy's, as well.

What was the question?

"No." Quincy answered, sounding pleased with himself for some unknown reason. "I doubt she understands platonic relationships, either."

"_Oi!_" She shoved at him. "I'm right here! _And_ I understand platonic relationships."

"Are you sure?" Jane was still moving to the song in her head when she casually said, "After all, you did snog Scorpius and that's not—"

Rose promptly went backwards off her stool; her foot connecting with her canvas and sending it toppling over. She landed hard on her bum and pain shot up her spine, but that was better than the _pure fucking_ _shock_ of Jane's words. Rose's stomach fell to her toes and then shot back up as if she were doing diving drills on a broom.

Everything just stopped. The instructor and the class; all eyes were on her. What a _nightmare_.

Jane was the first to move and Quincy helped her up. People asked if she were okay and she just nodded with a fake smile on her face. She was _not_ okay, but that had little to do with her fall and more to do with the fact that Jane and—_now Quincy_—knew. Rose waited until the class settled and everyone went back to minding their business; the instructor went back to showing them techniques on how to get the teeth right.

And then she turned to Jane, "How do _you_ know?"

Her friend just blinked innocently. "You told me after the party while I was helping you into bed, don't you remember?"

_No, she didn't_, but she hadn't been in a state where she would remember anything anyway.

"Quincy knew too." Jane told her as if she were talking about whether she liked spring or autumn better.

Rose whirled around on him and he immediately threw his arms up in surrender. With her gaze steady, she tried to figure him out. "Jane's story makes sense, I was _beyond_ pissed that night, but how do _you_ know?" But before he could stammer an answer out, Rose rolled her eyes, irritated. His answer didn't matter. He knew and now it was her mess to clean up. "For fuck's sake, just—yes, it happened, but it was nothing."

"You fell out your chair." Jane said thoughtfully. "That's not the reaction of someone who thinks—"

"Can we talk about something else?"

Anything else, really.

Jane just stared at her as if she were trying to read her with the deliberate slowness of someone spooning through pudding that _might_ have had broken glass hidden in it. And honestly, Rose was uncomfortable under her gaze and in no mood to discuss anything. But Jane was always making her do shit she didn't want to in the name of self-improvement. So, Rose should not have been surprised when Jane declined her request with a single question. "You told me that you've never felt anything when you snogged someone. Has that changed?"

_What sort of question was that?_

"Your silence tells me that _you did_," and Quincy was grinning like the cat who got the cream.

Rose scowled at him. "Since you lot want honesty, I did feel something. The fact that he shocked me."

"Emotionally?" Jane asked brightly.

She made a disgusted face because they'd gone mad. "No, _literally_. He zapped me."

That time, _and_ the night she'd fallen on his face.

Jane was confused. "He…zapped you?"

Quincy looked disappointed.

"Yes," she answered with a shrug because that was the truth.

"Are you sure?" Jane's eyes were all squinty, like she just didn't understand. "That doesn't sound like that's how static electricity works."

Rose huffed and began painting her canvas black, taking her irritation with the conversation out on it with long strokes of her paintbrush. "I think I know what getting shocked feels like."

"And the rest of it?"

The rest of it was probably the stupidest thing she'd ever done. No, that was the absolute truth.

There were many factors that could have contributed to what had happened: Firewhisky and those aggravating witches; her head that was already filled to the brim with junk, that damn dagger, inquiry, nightmares, trauma and stress. On top of that, there was the media coverage about Rose essentially _falling into his face_.

And the massive cherry at the top had been her irritation with the party as a whole.

There had been too many people there and they all were in his face, just so they could say they'd gotten a picture or a look or a conversation. And, of course, Scorpius was so fucking obliging with that Malfoy media smile that she hated. Rose had yelled at Lily for ten minutes straight after she and Quincy had found her surrounded by her friends after their dance. Then, she'd yelled at her all over again when Lily started asking where he was so she could put him at the centre of attention again by singing Happy Birthday.

It seemed that the combination had put her on the edge and a moment of sheer impulsive recklessness had led to her…well, toppling over it and snogging her best friend.

Simple as that.

Sort of.

Rose had told herself that she'd deal with each problem when they came to the front of her mind's queue. And there it was. But now…she found that she still couldn't process what had happened on Scorpius' birthday because it was taking every bit of strength to not roll up her sleeves, stare at her bruised arms, and mull over the threat of the person responsible.

But did she _really_ want to think about Barracus in an art studio in Surrey?

_No._

So, she shut the door on him.

Rose stared at her black canvas, her mood twisting as she dropped the brush into the murky water. Just because she didn't want to mull over Barracus didn't mean she wanted to focus on what had happened with Scorpius.

Why not? Because while their—admittedly long—snog had been _bloody good_ in a way Rose figured had a lot to do with their familiarity with one another. Outside of that zap of static shock that shot down her spine and almost sent her careening backwards into the damn bookshelf, the rest was…better than most of her first kisses.

Not awkward or cringe-worthy, but warm and inexplicably familiar in a way it shouldn't have been. Scorpius knew how to read her cues and gauge her responses; not too wet or too dry, not too hard or too soft. He gave just enough but not too much. It wasn't overwhelming or confusing.

Instincts of a friend?

_Maybe_.

When he'd asked for the control she coveted, Rose had given it to him without a second thought because she trusted Scorpius. He'd always had her best interest in mind. And maybe that night had made it easier to confide in him earlier that morning.

Or maybe _all of that_ could be blamed on a rip in the space-time continuum.

Still, it had happened, no denying that, but their friendship was strong enough not to be affected by something as silly as a snog. So what if they'd kissed, so what if it was good; it didn't have to _mean_ anything.

Their kiss had a right to only be a kiss.

And that was that.

"For your dinosaur." Jane handed her the white paint as if it were a peace offering. "The eyes should be red."

She considered it for a moment.

It would probably end up looking like an albino turtle.

So, better than her first attempt then.

Quincy offered his own version of peace in the form of refilling her glass of white wine. Rose knew he was only staging a tactical retreat in order to regroup later, but took the offering anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm probably, maybe...45% done with this fic and we have so much to go. Don't trust that 25 chapters cause I don't...considering the place we're about to go. This chapter was all about what happened after Barracus and the importance of family, as well as the mending of her relationship with Hermione (don't fuck with her kids...*cough cough*). There's Scorpius and silent conversations and after-care and some character growth from Rose. Had to deal with Rose's mental health in stages, oh, and a little hilarious nudging from some friends. Well, not so much a nudge as a push down a flight of stairs, but ya know, semantics. I love writing Jane and Quincy and hell, everyone. I'd say its the calm after the storm, but there are some complicated feelings ahead, if you haven't caught the subtle hints and cues of Rose's shifting descriptions.


	14. Electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Louder, lips speak louder  
_  
_Better, back together_  
_Still it’s a shock, shock_  
_To your side, side_
> 
> **Soft Shock: Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Chapter Fourteen: Electric**

The wine had long since released its hold on Rose's brain by the time they returned to Al and Scorpius' flat, paintings in hand. So, honestly, there was no excuse when—as a result of Jane's complex hand gestures—she'd given Scorpius her painting. Rose had refused to put it up in her own flat because it looked every bit like an albino turtle…and not a very cute one either.

And at first, he looked puzzled, but then he'd uncovered it and well…

Rose had predicted three things would happen:

_First_, he would call it the ugliest thing he'd ever seen.  
_Second_, they would laugh together  
_Third_, she would put the painting where it belonged…with the rubbish.

When Scorpius had said her painting looked like a germ with teeth and they laughed at it for five solid minutes, she'd thought she'd proven the point that Jane and Quincy were daft and she was the _only one_ with their wits about them. But then, even though it clashed with everything he owned, Scorpius hung it on the wall above his desk and…hmm.

Oh well, her point had still been made.

Two out of three wasn't bad. Right?

Besides, Scorpius sometimes surprised her with his contrary behaviour.

Sometimes.  
Well, not often.  
Not even once in the last three years.  
But _sometimes_.

Anyway, they were late for dinner at the Burrow. Uncle Charlie was visiting, but her Nan had Owled earlier and told her the menu, just to guarantee that Rose would show up. Pot roast and steamed cabbage and roasted chicken and potatoes and Yorkshire pudding and lentil loaf for Scorpius and…so much more. Rose happened to _love_ pot roast…and chicken. And potatoes.

She wasn't picky.

After impatiently watching Al—who had hung Jane's glorious portrait-painting of a blue lion in the sitting room on the wall behind the sofa—stumble over asking Jane to join them, Rose all but shouted her invitation and dragged her friend to the Floo while Scorpius laughed and Al blushed ferociously.

Dinner was a not-so organised chaotic feast, as usual.

Not only was Uncle Charlie in town, but it seemed like every cousin that wasn't in Hogwarts or abroad showed up, even Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur. The table was running over with family and friends and everyone was crammed together; chairs so close no one could tell where one ended and another began.

"Eat up!" her Nan encouraged everyone with a bright, watery smile she always had when everyone was around and she was missing Uncle Fred.

Grandpa reached for her hand and squeezed.

There was a moment of silence before Roxanne pointed to the sautéed mushrooms on her plate and blurted out, "Daddy, that looks like poo! Are we eating_ poo_?"

The room exploded with laughter, but her youngest cousin looked extremely put out about being laughed at until Uncle George explained that mushrooms were just edible fungus.

From there, no one had to be told twice and everyone tucked into their meals.

It had always been quietest part of dinner.

Rose didn't have enough elbow room to really enjoy her food experience, but she was crammed between Jane and Al so it didn't matter. A bit later, conversations began sprouting up in earnest. Everyone was talking loudly and laughing at something or the other; enjoying the presence of family with a few additions. It wasn't bad. Rose found herself observing everything rather than actively participating.

Her parents were reminiscing with Uncle Harry, Uncle George, and Aunt Ginny; their cackling and teasing loud and long.

"Okay, _Won-Won_!" Aunt Ginny teased, face red from amusement.

Her mum nearly spit out her pumpkin juice, but managed to swallow it before she laughed.

Uncle George _did_ spit out his butterbeer. They all laughed harder.

"_Oi!_" Her dad tried to sound offended, but was too busy grinning.

Uncle Harry patted his back in sympathy, "You're never going to live that nickname down, mate."

"_Bloody hell_."

Uncle Percy was talking about work with Rose, who pretended to listen, nodding at all the appropriate parts. "The Ministry, I think, is where you will end up in the end. There is no better career path for a Weasley." _Blah, blah, blah._ "Perhaps you will do well in—"

"Love," Aunt Audrey interrupted, touching his arm gently. "Can you bring me a spoon from the kitchen?"

Her uncle agreed and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek that pinkened his cheeks before he stood up and left to complete his task. He didn't think once about the fact that nothing on their plates required a spoon. Rose mouthed her thanks to her aunt, who nodded with a grin and went back to her conversation.

Jane put another piece of chicken on her plate and Rose happily tucked in.

Nan was trying to convince James to get a haircut. "You're looking like your Uncle Ron."

"Hmm," James looked both humoured and thoughtful, if that at all was possible. "Which Uncle Ron do I look like? You-Bring-Back-That-Car Uncle Ron, Yule-Ball-Robes Uncle Ron, or The-Quidditch-Robe-Fiasco Uncle Ron?"

"_Oi!_" Her dad complained loudly while everyone laughed. "Is it pester Ron day or something?"

With her head tilted, Rose eyed James' red hair that was sticking up on all ends, like he'd been shocked or attacked by a bird. Then it hit her. "You look like my dad the time mum got him with the canaries when he left me at Tesco by mistake."

Everyone laughed harder while her dad sulked. "Not _you too_, Rosie. I'm supposed to be your favourite!"

She just shrugged and continued eating with a smile on her face. "You are, but you also used to leave me _a lot_." That time, she had been lost a half hour before he came running back in the store like the devil—_or her mum_—was on his heels. Security had given her a juice box and some crisps, so she was fine, but she'd pretended to be upset and used that to guilt her dad into two weeks of ice-cream trips.

Completely worth it.

And they wondered why she'd been sorted in Slytherin.

Grandpa was making sure Roxanne ate her food, rather than wear it. Not the mushrooms, though.

"Cabbage is good for you." Uncle Bill told her gently, biting back a grin.

Her little cousin was _not_ convinced. "Looks like sad salad."

Uncle Percy, who was back from the kitchen, chuckled fondly. Rose wondered if he was getting soft in his old age. He _certainly_ hadn't been that docile when they had been Roxanne's age. He spent a lot of time yelling like a grumpy old man, making sure they were following proper decorum and protocol, but that was right before he'd met Aunt Audrey…and _long_ before Molly and Lucy, who were both at Hogwarts, had come along.

Al was talking to Teddy in low tones, nodding along to whatever he said.

So, Jane-related.

He was _hopeless_.

From her spot next to Scorpius, Lily spoke with excitement about her fashion line with Victoire, Dominique, Aunt Fleur, and Aunt Audrey. She tried to draw Scorpius into their conversation by saying, "The bottom line is that men appreciate women that are dressed well and are sophisticated. Isn't that true, _Score_?"

Scorpius took a drink from his goblet, frowning at the nickname and Rose suppressed a snicker of her own. "Statistically, I can't speak for all men."

"Speak for yourself, then."

He picked up his fork, then thought twice about it and sat it down. "I'm not as traditional as my either side of my family would like, so I can't say that I agree with your statement." He adjusted his glasses, shrugging casually as he seemed to choose his next words very carefully. "I'm not blind, I _can_ and _do_ notice attractive women, but I've never been superficial."

"Most men are superficial," Lily rolled her eyes. "They are first attracted to a woman because of the way she looks."

"And that may be true for some, but not me." Scorpius argued, looking over at her cousin. "I don't fancy someone simply because they're beautiful or because their clothes are in style. I don't care about hair or makeup or whatever. When I like someone, none of those things matter."

Lily just stared at him as if she were trying to figure out him…or _something_. "So, if I didn't dress this way or carry myself the way I do, would you like me?"

"No, because you're not my type," he told her simply.

Rose figured she would let it go, but should have known better. It was Lily after all.

"What _is_ your type?" she asked.

Scorpius shrugged. "The person I like, simple as that."

Aunt Audrey looked directly at Rose, eyebrow raised, for some unknown reason. Rose finished her cabbage, but barely. Roxanne was right. It did look like sad salad.

"That's rubbish," Lily scoffed. "Every man has their idea of a perfect woman."

Scorpius frowned. "I don't believe in perfection because the word, at best, is subjective and restrictive."

"Why do you say that?" Victoire asked.

"Perfection," Scorpius answered after taking another sip of water. "Doesn't allow room for development and open-mindedness, mistakes and failures. We all are flawed because we're human, but it'll be my acceptance of her for who she is—flaws, quirks, personality-clashing qualities, and all—that will make her perfect to me." He ran his hand through his hair, looking a little uncomfortable despite his honest words. "Hopefully, it's mutual; that we'll continue to grow and change together—not chasing perfection, but pursuing a goal to be the best versions of ourselves."

Victoire and her aunts looked rather fascinated by his response, while Rose chewed on her chicken and eyed the pot roast, trying to determine if she had room for a third helping.

"You'll make someone very happy one day, I think." Aunt Audrey smiled.

Scorpius adjusted his glasses.

Lily wore a probing expression Rose hadn't seen since she'd correctly deduced that Rose had quit Floo Regulations for the second time during their weekly family dinner. "You sound as if you already have someone in mind."

He glanced over at her, face as inscrutable as ever. "Perhaps," and his drawl was so nonchalant that he almost sounded like his father. _Almost_. His tone made Rose look up because she _knew_ he was holding back.

And her cousin didn't have the knowledge of Scorpius' little cues that would have told her to _back off_, but Rose wasn't about to get involved. He could handle himself against Lily, who was staring at him with an almost challenging look. "Three weeks ago, you told me you didn't. What changed?"

Scorpius looked at her for a long time and said, "You ask a lot of intrusive questions."

Lily didn't look sorry, only committed to finding her answers. "Forgive my curiosity, but—"

"Sometimes, you remind me of my mother."

That was _not_ a compliment.

Al cringed, but continued talking to Teddy because his key to keeping everything balanced between his best friend and sister was to stay as far away from conflict as possible.

It worked for him.

Rose whistled lowly, bringing her water goblet to her lips to take a long drink.

Where was the wine?

The very thought of being fair to Lily annoyed Rose to bits, _but_ _to be fair_, she had no idea about Scorpius' very convoluted relationship with his mother. Al had known far longer than Rose, who had only found out Sixth Year when he'd showed up at her front door in the dead of winter, upset over the fact that his mother was trying to plan out his life. She'd kept his problems to herself, Al had too, so Lily and their cousins knew nothing. Their parents knew bits and pieces of the story, but never got involved as it wasn't their place. Over the years, they had just taken Scorpius in whenever he'd turned up with a metaphorical storm cloud over his head.

Had she known any of that, Lily would not have airily said, "Men often marry women who are like their mothers."

Victoire, who knew first hand from Teddy, shot Rose a look that bordered on uncomfortable.

Was there _any_ Firewhisky?

"If that's my destiny, I'd rather not marry at all." Scorpius replied firmly.

She was about to say something else when Louis, who had started chatting with Uncle Percy about the History of the Ministry upon his return, tapped Scorpius on the shoulder to settle the argument about whether it was Eldritch Diggory or Albert Boot that was Minister during the Goblin Rebellion. Nerd stuff.

"Albert Boot," Scorpius answered automatically. "He resigned after; I believe."

Because _of course_ he would know something like that off the top of his head.

Jane was listening with rapt fascination to Uncle Charlie's dragon stories. They weren't new, Roxanne had even heard the stories he was telling her, but he liked telling them all the same.

He enjoyed having fresh ears.

"The dragon broke free and flew high in the sky. I jumped on my broom and went after it, dodging the flames he blew in my direction."

"Poor Kombo, he was just scared!"

Charlie just blinked at her.

Not too many people had sympathy for a Hungarian Horntail.

"You're right," he smiled gently. "He was."

Each person had their own subtle way of checking up on Rose as news always spread faster than the speed of light in their family. But it wasn't terrible because, for once, they weren't in her face about it. Rose found herself answering more questions than deflecting. During dessert, her sleeve was up a bit and her Nan caught sight of discoloured skin. "All right?"

"Um." Rose pulled down her sleeve and held herself still, willing herself not to twitch.

Awkwardly, she looked around because it seemed that all conversation had ceased when the question had been asked. They all wanted to know. They all were concerned. _They cared_. Of course they did, she'd thought stupidly, but Rose was still on guard; still holding her feelings close. That was who she was and who she had always been, but perhaps just _once_ she could…

Rose looked from her mum to her dad, Nan and Grandpa; around the table at aunts and uncles and cousins and friends. She recalled her silent conversation with Scorpius from that morning and remembered that it was okay; the vow she had made to herself.

Right.

Self-acceptance for the person she was yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

It was still such a strange awakening, but their presence had proven to her everything he had silently said. So, Rose answered honestly without jokes or diversions.

"I'm…_not_, but I think…I think I'm getting there."

And if she choked a little bit on her words, well, that was okay, too.

* * *

After dinner, everyone broke off in different directions.

Some had to leave to prepare for the next day, but most stayed. There was a group who helped her Nan clean, a group that went outside to start a fire in the pit to roast marshmallows and sing songs, and a group that went into their large sitting room to continue their dinner conversations.

Grandpa fell asleep on the sofa and snored something awful to remind them all where Al had gotten it from. Roxanne terrorised James in a way that screamed divine retribution for all the times he'd pranked and annoyed them all when they were kids. Too bad it stopped when her dad fetched her. Pity. She was upset about having to leave, but Uncle George reminded her that she had school the next day and they were learning about carbonation and taste-testing fizzy drinks and colas.

But the promise of sugary drinks wasn't enough to make her go without watery eyes.

After all, while Roxanne liked her classes and teacher, she liked being a nuisance _far_ more.

James had promised she could terrorise him some more with the one Weasley Wheeze's item of her choosing. The way her frown was quickly replaced by a scheming grin that was identical to Uncle George made Rose wonder just what she had in store for James.

She wouldn't miss it for the world.

Roxanne skipped off with Uncle George without incident.

"I'm going to regret that," James said to no one in particular.

"Absolutely," Al grinned wickedly when his brother groaned and headed back to the Burrow for a drink. "Payback is a bitch!"

James shot his brother a single-fingered salute that made Al laugh harder.

Not too much after, Jane decided that it was perfectly clear outside and they should stargaze. So without much arguing, they ventured away from the fire pit group with her Nan's favourite large blanket and did just that. Rose had always had a passing interest in Astronomy, Al had none at all, but they watched Scorpius and Jane pick out constellations and talk about the mythology of each.

Hours passed like that.

More Weasleys went home, but each came by to say their goodbyes, interrupting the stories. Rose had never been hugged so many times in one evening, but that was mainly because she'd never _allowed_ that many hugs in one evening.

_Semantics_.

It was weird, but not too terrible.

It was close to eleven when Al left to escort Jane back to her flat, leaving her and Scorpius alone. It was silent out; the bonfire had been simmering since Dominique and Louis had gone inside with their parents. They could hear the chatter coming from the inside the Burrow where everyone left was gathered, but couldn't make out anything particular. Rose did hear her dad's booming laugh and assumed her mum hadn't left him there. She picked out Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie's voices, Aunt Fleur's laugh, and Lily's screeching.

Scorpius was pointing out Corona Borealis and Rose found her thoughts wandering while he rattled on. There was enough light coming from the Burrow for her to see him. He wasn't animated, but it was close. Most of the time, Scorpius looked focused and brainy, but right then, he seemed relaxed as he recited about the story of Ariadne, Theseus, and the Minotaur.

They weren't quite touching, but lying close enough for her to quietly wonder just how _that_ had happened when Al and Jane had been between them not too long ago. All thoughts of Jane took her back to their earlier conversation, where words like platonic and solar plexus and charged energy swirled around in her head until she blurted out:

"Do you think we have a special relationship?"

Well.

_That_ hadn't been the best transition.

Hell, Rose had no idea why she'd even asked the question. Based on the way he'd frozen, she couldn't pretend she hadn't asked. Instead, she waited for him to drawl out something dismissive and sarcastic where they both would laugh at Jane's eccentricities and move on. Rose wasn't disappointed when Scorpius levelled her with a strange look and said, "I'm sorry, a _what_?"

"A special relationship." Rose repeated while scrunching her nose. "Jane's words, not mine."

He said nothing for a long moment before he smirked a bit, "I like her. She's a good person and an even better friend to you, but Jane is a bit… _odd_."

"Understatement of the damn _decade_. She took me to a bloody _salt cave_ today." Rose shook her head, and looked over at Scorpius who looked humoured. "She's just finished a book on Feng Shui and is threatening to come to my flat this weekend to make sure the energy flows right. Or something. I have no idea what she's talking about a lot of the time."

"Neither do I," Scorpius confessed with a snort. "I don't know what Feng Shui is, but if it involves those bowls, I'm cancelling our plans."

Rose laughed at his discomfort. "I didn't know you hated them that much."

"It was loud and the sound seemed to bounce off everything. It felt like I couldn't move when she hit one of them." Scorpius told her, looking a bit put out. "Weirdest morning of my life."

"Seriously?" she scoffed. "I doubt that."

He thought about it and grimaced. "Well, not stranger than the time my Aunt Daphne drank too much at breakfast and explained reproduction to Al and I in graphic detail to while using sausage links and boiled eggs as visualisation…" He shuddered at the memory.

She laughed until her sides hurt and there were tears in her eyes as she imagined the horror on both of their faces.

Al's especially.

"Jane with the Tibetan Singing Bowls was far less traumatic, I'm sure."

Scorpius hummed in agreement.

Rose wiped her eyes and caught her breath. "I think she's just trying to help me in her own way. She's always telling me that I have poor coping mechanisms and I don't take care of my mental health."

He chuckled as he shifted, turning on his side, facing her; his body warm at her side and slightly blocking her from the cool night time breeze. He propped his head up on his hand and fixed his glasses with his free hand. "She might be right about that."

"_Oi!_" Rose shoved him, but there was no anger behind it and he just laughed harder. "The last thing I need is for you to team up with Jane and make it your goal to fix my energy with your presence," she joked with a roll of her eyes.

"What?" Scorpius looked at her peculiarly.

"Oh right," she rolled her eyes. "I forgot. Jane thinks your presence balances my energy." Rose chuckled, and couldn't believe she'd actually voiced the words. "Completely mad, right?"

He said nothing; smile fading just as another round of riotous laughter came from the Burrow. She wondered what was so funny, but her curiosity died when he said, "Maybe…or maybe not. It's all about perception. What do _you_ think?"

Rose looked up at the sky and traced out Ursa Major with her finger. Once again, honesty came easy with him; easier still in the near darkness in the open field outside The Burrow on a clear night. "We've been friends for so long that _of course_ you know me better than most everyone. It makes sense, in a way, that I would feel at ease around you. Not the way she was talking about, of course, but—"

"What way is that?"

Despite the coolness, Rose felt her face warm. "We agreed she was nutters."

"Even the mad make valid points sometimes."

Rose lowered her hand and found herself looking at him. Much like that morning, she found herself stupidly pointing out things she'd never noticed before: his expression was enigmatic, gaze strangely direct, and his blue eyes seemed to stand out more in the warm light that came from The Burrow. His hair was messy from both the breeze and lying down for so long.

And well, she had always liked him best when he wasn't so annoyingly put together.

She didn't know why she asked her question a second time. Honestly, Rose didn't really care much about the answer, but curiosity was such a changeable thing. "Do you think we have a special relationship?"

There was no hesitation in his answer. "Yes." Before she could question his sanity, Scorpius shifted a bit to get comfortable and continued, "For all the same reasons you've stated for why you feel at ease around me."

"That's no different from any other friendship."

Scorpius gave a half-shrug. "I don't have many friends as close as we are for comparison, but my friendship with Henrietta isn't like ours. Neither is my friendship with Al. He's my practically my brother and he's your cousin, but you…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"What about me?" she asked, fiddling with her shirt, bunching it in a fist and releasing it.

Chuckling darkly, Scorpius ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I think it would be awkward if I thought of you as a sister, considering the fact that we've…you know."

_Kissed_.  
_Snogged._

Whatever verb fit in that gap.

Rose squirmed uncomfortably and Scorpius seemed to pick up on the shift in her mood. "I had no plans to talk about what happened. It's not the right time to add another issue on top of all your others. Yesterday, was…_a lot_, even on top of everything already transpiring. But when things calm down, when you're ready to talk about it, I'll be ready."

"It's not an issue," she replied stubbornly because all she wanted to do was crush the entire incident.

He didn't look convinced. "Whether we acknowledge it or not, it's always an issue when lines like that are blurred in friendships, especially ones like ours. I—"

She cut him off with a huff, rolling her eyes. "It was _just_ a snog, Scorpius. It's not an issue unless we make it one. We're not the first best friends to kiss, and we won't be the last, I'm sure of it. There's an entire genre dedicated to that particular trope." Rose glanced up at the sky. "It doesn't have to mean anything. It _happened_, and to appease your fragile male ego, I'll even admit that it was good, except for the fact that you shocked me."

"Shocked you?"

Rose groaned. "Of _course_, that's the _one_ thing you pick up out of all that."

"I caught the entire statement and have already ordered my rebuttals. _First_," he raised a finger to accentuate his point. "My ego isn't fragile, but I've been your friend long enough that not to take everything you say seriously, so I'll let that go. _Second_," he raised another finger. "I didn't need verbal confirmation to know that you didn't hate snogging me. I had to throw out that jumper because you stretched it out so bad with your incessant tugging." Before she could cut him off with a counter-argument, he added a third. "_Third_, I didn't shock you. I—"

She cut him off with a snort. "Oh, no you _don't_, Scorpius Malfoy. None of that 'Oh, no Rose, _you_ shocked _me'_ nonsense. I know how to pick up my feet when I walk."

He just blinked at her. "Of my three points, you want to discuss the last?" His eyebrow raised above the frame of his black glasses. "Pot meet kettle."

"_Oi!_"

Scorpius shrugged casually. "Fine, we'll discuss the last point. I could give you the entire breakdown of how static electricity works, but I don't think you care about the transfer of negative charges from one object to another."

Rose rolled her eyes so hard that she was surprised they didn't fall from her head. "If you want me to _drop dead_ from boredom, then by the _gods_, go on then."

For a second, she regretted the permission she'd granted because his face shifted from cool and a bit amused to something close to intense. The last time she'd had the same expression on her face, she'd done something reckless to prove her point.

"Well," Scorpius fixed his glasses and ploughed on in the tone he only used when debating Henrietta. "Science lecture aside, your theory of me shocking you isn't based on anything logical."

Groaning at the academic shift in the conversation, Rose sighed. "I have _real_ regrets now."

There was no stopping him when he went into lecturer mode. "Argument three part one: Al drags his feet when he walks, but only when he's tired or rushing. James, too. I never do, even if I'm at home. I'm certain my grandmother would sense it and lecture me from wherever she is about how my actions will only scuff her floors when I visit."

Rose laughed, but only because that was true. Not because he had a _point_.

"This brings me to my second part of argument three. Your theory would be plausible if _carpet_ were involved, as the act of dragging your feet on carpet allows you to pick up electrons; which causes the imbalance that leads to one shocking the first person they touch."

"Your grandmother is _far_ too dignified for carpet." Rose mocked without thinking, which only made his grin grow. His confidence had always been subtle, never overt like it was right then; a flutter of _something_ passed through her.

There and gone, she barely spared it a thought.

"Exactly." Scorpius brushed his hair from his face. "No carpet. No imbalance. No shocking."

And there he was blowing holes in her argument. "Now wait—"

"_Of course_, there are other factors, but these points are the ones that are relevant to that night."

Rose shoved him without much intent behind it. "For the record, you're _annoying_ when you get like this."

"Noted." Scorpius just grinned, face bright.

His smile struck her as reflexive; an unconscious expression of self-satisfaction, which was rare coming from him. Scorpius smiled far more at twenty-one than he did at eleven; so poised and methodical and private with his feelings that he never allowed himself to express the extremes of his emotions. Not like Rose. Not even close. In fact, she could count on one hand how many times he had smiled the way he was right then and two of the five times involved seeing his marks on both the OWLs and NEWTs.

Scorpius was destroying her argument bit by bit, but there was an interesting reaction that accompanied the damage. And it wasn't annoyance. Rose was the furthest from sentimental, but she liked when he smiled like that; brilliant enough to see the barely noticeable dimple he'd inherited from his mother. It was as if he were just remembering that he _could_ grin like that and no one would weaponize his happiness against him.

Rose had to suppress one of her own smiles just to keep up pretences.

"I happen to have three other points and two addendums," he teased. "In the interest of time, however, I'll just skip to the conclusion."

"And that is?"

"That I didn't shock you and there are several ways to prove my point."

Rose's barely suppressed smile vanished. Oh right, that argument.

She opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut, suddenly annoyed.

Usually, Rose reserved her irritation for Lily and any other member of the human race that exasperated her. But right then, Rose was in the same mood she'd been in during Fourth Year when she'd shoved him into the Black Lake. Or two years ago when she slapped him in the face with a pillow because he wouldn't tell his mother that he had accepted a job as a Healer in the Trauma Unit over accepting a position he never intended to take in the Ministry.

But as soon as the frustration flared, it receded, melting away; almost as if her brain knew she could never stay cross at him over something so silly. Still, Rose sulked and glared petulantly; feeling all of twelve again when she challenged him with a simple phrase: "Prove it."

She could tell he hadn't expected her response because his self-assured look vanished; almost as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold lake water on him. "Excuse me?"

"Your point," she folded her arms defiantly, daring him. "Prove it."

"That's…not a good idea." His unease confused her because she hadn't expected it; not after the way he'd seemed so sure of himself before. "You don't know what you're asking for."

Rose cocked a brow at him. "I know _exactly_ what I'm asking for."

"No, you don't." His face reverted back its default: serious and a little cautious.

And that irritated her for some unknown reason. "I'm asking—no, _telling_ you to prove it."

"Um," Scorpius rubbed the side of his neck, showing how uncomfortable he was.

While he had never been too expressive, he wasn't emotionless either. Over the years, Rose had learned to read as much of him as she could through subtle cues, observation, and by piecing together his vocalised emotions with his facial expressions at the time. Lately, though he seemed very much himself, there were moments when he had been more guarded, wary.

Like right then.

"Does this mean that I win?" Rose asked, staring at him, watching as his face flickered from discomfort to stubborn resolve and finally to frowning determination.

"_No_."

"Then, prove it," Rose challenged again, smirking.

Scorpius had never been able to resist a logistics competition. She usually left testing his wits to Henrietta because Rose didn't fight wars she couldn't always—and confidently—win. But that night, she'd only instigated knowing he had no way to prove each line of his reasoning and their addendums or _whatever_.

She had won simply because he couldn't.

He accepted her challenge with a firm look on his face. "Fine."

Then his free arm extended, reaching over her body and finding her hand; touching with the tips of his fingers at first, then his open palm. Scorpius didn't move to hold her hand, but kept it like that.

"Did I shock you?" he asked, voice sounding just a bit strained.

"No," Rose answered, confused. What was he going on about?

Scorpius took his hand back. "You do the same."

With a roll of her eyes, she huffed and pushed herself up to a seated position, folding her legs. Silently, he moved with her, mirroring her; their knees touching. He held out his hand, fist closed, and after murmuring her annoyance with his pointless exercise, she closed her hand around his wrist. Nothing.

"You didn't shock me."

"Thank you for stating the obvious," she drawled, but it didn't have the same bite. Her voice sounded odd, like she had a mouthful of sand and no water nearby.

The air between them was increasingly heavy with something she couldn't define so Rose didn't try to label it. The connection, her hand to his wrist, remained and for some reason; her fingers were pressing down so hard that she could feel his pulse begin to quicken, completely in sync with her own. That weird feeling from that morning returned, accompanied by a light fluttering sensation in the back of her head that whispered: _don't play in the flames._

Whatever that meant.

"I believe my point has been proven." Rose let go of his wrist, using that hand to run through her hair, tugging at a piece that got tangled in between her middle and ring fingers. _Ouch_. "I think I'll take winnings in _pie_, thank you."

"Not just yet."

His tone made Rose glance over at Scorpius. The look on his face was concentrated; eyes dark with resolve, jaw tight. Determined.

And well, _sometimes_, Rose had a tendency to be too confident; convinced of her own rightness that she missed one minor detail that would cause her entire argument to collapse and burn. For example, she had been so certain of her victory; so positive that Scorpius had no way to prove he hadn't shocked her that Rose had failed to take into account a small and not so minor detail of Scorpius' personality.

His mind worked like a scientist—always posing questions and solving problems. He learned by doing, observing and gathering evidence through each interaction. Right now, Scorpius had a hypothesis that he needed to test. The only way he could was by recreating as many of the same variables from that night as he could. But Rose had left him in a pinch for time and resources, so he worked with what he had. In her premature victory celebration, Rose had failed to realise the only _obvious_ _way_ that Scorpius could settle their argument.

"We agree there are no imbalance in electrons?"

Rose made a face. "Sure?"

He nodded and leaned a little closer. Apart from their knees down, they weren't touching; the space between them, although familiar, felt a little heavy, tense, muggy. She was only slightest curious about his thought process, but mostly, she'd zeroed in on his proximity.

Close, but no closer than usual.

However, there was that senseless warning again: _highly flammable_.

Weird.

Rose figured his closeness had something to do with the challenge she'd issued and his question confirmed her theory: "Nothing that would cause one of us to shock the other?"

"Based on your high-level overview, no."

He nodded once. "Very well then."

Based on his argument, subpoints and addendums, there weren't any negative charges. Which meant that she shouldn't have felt a thing when he leaned in the rest of the way, brushing his lips against hers once, twice before exhaling like it _hurt _and pressing his mouth to hers…right?

Except…_oh_.

But it was over before Rose could protest or process; push him away or pull him in. Not that she was set on which she would have done, but it didn't matter. Just like that, every shred of her awareness was zeroed in on him, on them.

And though everything was quiet between them, Rose's mind was in a state of disarray. That unknown feeling from that morning was there—the one that had been just a whisper; a flutter of _something_ that hadn't felt wrong. Well, _now_ it was _louder_, insistent; almost as perceptible as her own heartbeat.

His eyes were on her; watching, analysing, recording data. And Rose stared back, not having the good sense to ask him what the _hell_ he thought he was doing. Because she knew that he using his limited resources to prove his point.

And then she felt that zap of electricity again. It wasn't right, nor was it _possible_ because they were already touching. Already balanced. But when his thumb touched her top lip, slid to the bottom, parting them slightly, Rose felt it all the same. _Oh?_

She almost missed him murmuring her name because his voice was throaty and a bit scratchy.

"Rose?"

Uncertain?

One hand was on her knee, but the other was still on her face; thumb sweeping across against her bottom lip over and over. His touch was so feather soft it almost tickled. Rose tried her best to focus on each point of contact to stop from crawling out of her skin, but couldn't. She was everywhere and nowhere; both outside herself looking in, and inside _feeling everything_; being pushed and pulled towards a place she wasn't familiar with.

A place that told her that what she'd felt was no ordinary shock.

Not a zap, a bolt, or a bloody shock.  
Not electricity or energy or _fucking electrons_.

_None of that._

It was…a sensation, a flutter of something subtle that had caught her unprepared. Different from the feeling that was currently drumming out the beat of her racing pulse, but similar in a way that Rose couldn't determine. Now that it had her attention, it made damn sure that she never ignored it again by sinking into her skin, settling in her muscles and _drilling holes _into her bones. The effect was instant and intense enough for the alarm in her head to sound.

_Abandon hope all ye who enter here._

Well, that was dramatic.

"My hypothesis isn't wrong," Scorpius said, voice still low and husky; his declaration was accompanied by a firmer touch on her knee. He was warm despite the slight chill of the night.

Rose cleared her throat, feeling a bit like something was lodged in it. She couldn't decipher the look on his face, but knew she'd seen it the night of his party right before he had kissed her. It was a look she hadn't been able to identify as she'd never seen it.

And it didn't look like she would figure it out that night either.

"I'll prove it."

She wanted to tell him that he already had proven his fucking point; that he _hadn't_ shocked her.

_Fine_.  
_Okay_.

She could accept that, but acceptance brought about other issues. The first problem was that it was suddenly _imperative_ that she determine two things: what the _hell_ that shock meant _and_ the identity of that weird feeling that was currently being a nuisance. The second problem was that Rose couldn't grasp at one thought long enough to hold on and let it guide her to understanding.

Truthfully, she needed a distraction; something to do with her brain to shut it all up, stop the incessant hammering, and find some fucking _peace_.

"Can I show you?"

There he was with the perfect – albeit stupid as hell – distraction, and because Rose made terrible life choices, she answered him in voice that was barely a whisper, "_Yes_."

* * *

Letting Scorpius kiss her – while stupid and impulsive – was as easy as breathing. The thought should have been far more alarming than it actually was—in that it wasn't alarming _at all_.

For several glorious seconds, Rose was able to ignore everything. The problems—established and newly realised. The zaps—that weren't zaps at all. The feeling that was annoying the ever living shit out of her. Everything melted away as her focal point narrowed on him and his mouth that moved against hers.

But it didn't last.

That odd feeling stopped hammering around and started _speaking_. In a faint whisper, it told her that the path to the clarity she sought – the solution to her problems – was to take its hand and follow it. Let it guide her. It promised to help. Teach her. Show her the truth. Answer her questions.

And while tempting, the rational part of Rose knew it was better to leave well enough alone.

_But_, if she knew what that feeling was, if it had a name, an identity, a reason for showing up; then perhaps she would be able to get rid of it permanently. Seemed perfectly rational, right?

_Red alert._

Well.

Rose had proven time and time again that she did what she wanted—damn the consequences.

Obstinate to the end, she ignored both her good sense and the warning sirens in favour of kissing him back, giving her hand to that feeling she'd only just discovered. It never said its name, nor did it offer any answers—_the lying liar—_but instead, it relaxed and stretched out to the four corners of her awareness, filling every crack and crevice of her subconscious.

It wasn't necessarily a good feeling either. It felt like drowning—no, _burning _underwater.

But with each drag of his mouth and exhaled breath; each touch of his fingers on her face and the slow movement of his hand from her knee to her thigh, the feeling said confusing shit like:

_It's okay.  
_ _I'm not lying.  
_ _Trust me.  
_ _This is the way._

And none of that made sense _at all_, but she was full, heavy with that feeling; too far gone to turn back. Rose slipped a hand behind his neck; the other fisting his jumper as she deepened the kiss, taking control. Because she needed control of _something_ because everything was a mess. In one quick motion, she drew Scorpius in, but wasn't soft about it. _No_. Rose tugged with enough force to make her lose her own balance. A small noise, _oof_, came from her when she landed up on her back with Scorpius practically on top of her.

But not quite.

He'd thrown out both hands at the last moment to stop his body from crash landing on hers.

After grunting his discomfort, Scorpius shifted. Rose had a sarcastic quip right on the edge of her tongue, but he lowered his head and swallowed it, picking up where they left off. _Okay then._

The hand on her was steady and not moving, but still felt as if a thousand of those small electric zaps were running through her. And that was…that was as _problematic_ as it was _improbable_, but Rose casually let the backs of her fingers run up the back of his jumper, finding it curious that even with the light touch she used, she still felt his muscles jump.

Maybe he'd felt the shock, too.

Instead of focusing on what _any_ of that meant, she kept kissing him, falling into a rhythm all their own where she poured as much as she could. It was deep and heavy and insistent—and that was all coming from her. Nothing from him. Nothing at all. And it was that urgency that spilled over and made her tug at his bottom lip almost roughly to draw some sort of reaction from him. And when he reacted with a groan, Rose gripped him tight—_shit, not good_—and apologised with each deep kiss that followed.

_That's it_, the feeling said. _Go with it._

And Rose _sank_ into it, giving and giving, but mostly taking every damn thing she could.

Because she could be a selfish shit sometimes.  
Because it was both new _and_ familiar, and that was fucking up her perception.

He smelled like grass and books and parchment, felt warm like hot chocolate in the dead of winter, tasted like the cinnamon candy Jane had given him before she left. The thought was asinine and foolish and everything sentimental that she absolutely _hated_, but it was good.

So good.  
_Too good._

And that was bizarre.

_Because he's something different_, the feeling told her. And perhaps that was true. Outside of the fact that he was one of her favourite people, Rose had never known just what made him different from the few in his league. Or how. Or why. What?

Well, if she really put some thought into it, Rose would admit to herself that everyone in that category was family. Al. Victoire, when they were both pissed. James, when he wasn't being a complete tosser. Jane wasn't family, but their bond was different from…well, from Scorpius. There, she admitted it. He was different and they were different.

And while she'd had her fair share of relationships, none of them had ever evoked that particular feeling in her…

And just where the_ hell _had that thought come from?

Rose tried her best to smother it, but it was too late. The thought had been expressed and that bloody feeling perked up – its glee maniacal.

Exhaling against his mouth, she shut her eyes tight as that damn _thing_ grew warmer and warmer inside her until it became an inferno. Rose could taste the ash on her tongue, smell it in the air around them, feel it on her skin. And she clung to Scorpius, panicked, because it was going to _burn her_ _alive_.

Too lost in her own mind and too consumed, Rose tried to concentrate. He was there and his hands were there, and shit, even though every second was _not a fucking good idea_, Rose held on tight and built each kiss on the previous. Higher and higher, she climbed, intent on burning herself out before that feeling could.

After all, mutually assured destruction worked for everything.

She would burn on her own terms.

It was what she did best, after all. All she knew how to do. But in burning herself, she would burn Scorpius, too. And could she do that to save herself? Rose was selfish, yes, but no, she couldn't do that. Not to him.

She loosened her grip, just as his tightened. _Okay_.

Fast. Everything was fast, but there were no surprises, no awkward motions. Scorpius moved like a cat and without breaking the tempo she'd established, he adjusted, placing his knees on either side of her hips, resting back on his legs. He was settled before Rose realised what he had done and why he had done it.

Scorpius had always been so careful; careful of her and of himself.  
Careful to keep his weight off her; careful not to trap her.

And Rose appreciated the gesture and their continued trust by tangling her hands in his hair, gripping and tugging, swallowing his groan and shivering when it vibrated in her chest. Her kisses were aggressive and unfocused, but demanding. What did she want exactly? That much, she didn't know, but Rose blamed that damn feeling…and perhaps the role Scorpius had played in its invasion.

Watchful of her wrists, Scorpius extracted one of her hands that was in his hair, pressing it down onto the blanket. The change in angle made him shift his knees a bit, widening them, relaxing his legs as he put a little more weight on her. Rose let him do the same with her other hand before she breathed into his mouth and sealed their lips together again.

There was a change in pressure and the heat.

The warning signal went off…and a switch clicked on.

She wouldn't burn it out so there was no outlet for the things building inside of her. Rose tried to share, tried to pour some into him with every kiss, every groan, every touch. But it was no use. Its heat pumped through her veins, tingling at the tips of her fingers and toes. She tensed and shivered when Scorpius' hand came back to her face, his thumb caressing her jawline in a move that caused her heart to jump to a place that it didn't belong.

_Nope._

Rose tried to ignore the stuttering in her chest; the feeling and blood rushing in her head like a damn freight train. Instead, she focused on her new mission: finding a spot to bury that feeling _deep_. But so far, no good. Still, Rose was determined. She kept trying, pressing harder, opening up hole after hole. Nothing was deep enough; no cage strong enough to imprison it. She even tried to deepen the kiss; testing the water by sliding her tongue against his as if the act alone would tap into something deeper that would hold it.

But Scorpius wouldn't let her.

"_Calm down_," he whispered, sounding like he was being ripped open from the inside.

Well, that made two of them.

"It's okay," he grumbled. "Let me."

She wasn't sure what she was letting him do, honestly; but his tone, the firm confidence in his words and the years of trust between them, that made her go still. Just like that, Rose stopped her plotting, halted her planning, and ceased her excavating. And Rose truly exhaled for the first time since he'd kissed her, relaxing her muscles; the tension flooding from her body as his breath caressed her skin.

Slowly, his hand cupped her face and her eyes fluttered shut the moment his mouth met hers again. Scorpius kissed her with a sort of deep and honest fondness that made her want to split in three different directions at once. Instinctively, her hand went to his cheek, needing the contact to support her fragile control of her that feeling. And it was easier to focus on the warmth of his skin rather than the truth that his kisses were different and overwhelming and passionate and too fucking much.

Every move of his was so controlled and calculated, but not necessarily soft or gentle. He made her _simmer_ rather than _burn_, and he seemed to put everything into it as if he were trying to tell her a story with his lips and tongue. All of it left Rose's head spinning as she tried to read and listen for comprehension, but couldn't because he kept_ touching her_.

A little here, a little there; a slow hand travelled from her thigh to her hip, up her curve of her waist. The motion tugged her shirt up just enough for Rose to feel the cool air on her skin. Scorpius covered the spot with a hand that was too warm; their mouths parting slightly when she inhaled sharply.

Their eyes locked, both breathing harsh and shallow. Her insides were stinging with sensations, her heart pounding away like a jackhammer, making her body hotter than it had any right to be.

Rose looked at him for the first time in the near darkness and…Scorpius looked _wrecked_; a mess of wide eyes, flushed skin, and hair that stuck out in all directions. She could barely see the blue of his eyes; his pupils blown wide. He looked so unlike the Scorpius she'd known since she was eleven that it was almost startling, but also comforting because she felt _exactly_ how he looked.

_Exactly_.

But even though he looked like he'd long since reached the end of his tether, Scorpius tilted his head in question, flattening his hand on her bare skin.

_Too much?_

It was almost instinct the way Rose put a shaking hand over his, eyes wide and too honest.

_No._

That was all the discussion they needed.

A heartbeat passed and they were pressed together again, like magnets; the air between them pulled taut. His kisses dragged them deeper, further out where they crashed together like waves. The slow, open mouth drag of his mouth over hers made her insides clench and burn. All Rose could do was hold on, close her eyes, mix her metaphors, and ride each swell while burning all the same.

It was the most intense feeling of her life. That feeling wouldn't _shut up_.

_This is it.  
_ _Keep going._

She found it all persuasive and tempting, beguiling yet contained; a promise of more of _something_.

Rose wasn't sure if she could take anymore of _anything_.

But she returned his caresses, running one hand up the side of his body; the other twisting his jumper in her fist while his hand absently rubbed her bare skin in a move that made her swear against his lips. All the muscles in the vicinity jumped and if Rose groaned, arching into him, well…_it was that feeling's fault_.

Scorpius broke the kiss, looking frayed and almost pained as he fisted the blanket next to her head. He took off his glasses tossed them aside like they meant nothing. Curiously, she dug her fingers in his side to distract him from whatever had made him stutter, then shifted and _felt_ what was bothering him. Or _not_?

Well.

_That_ escalated quickly.

Then again, maybe it didn't.

It was nothing.

Just biology and the brain working together; just millions of synapses firing all at once. Just interaction and chemical reactions taking place. Right?

And because Rose's stupid neurotransmitters also were misfiring, she hooked her ankles high on his thighs, accepting more of his weight as she experimentally rocked against him once, _twice_; all the while watching his face cloud over with a strange feeling of _fascination_.

Not just at his wavering control, but at the heat that was pooling low inside her.

_Okay_. That was…_different_.

It was a position she'd been in before. She was twenty-one, not nearly as chaste as she'd been at sixteen when she'd first started fumbling around like everyone else her age. She'd had far more failures and disappointments than she cared to admit or think about, but that aside, Rose was fairly certain that none of her previous encounters with any of her exes had felt anything like _this_: too much, too soon, too _everything_, but not nearly enough.

And the pooling heat only burned hotter when Scorpius' control slipped and he ground his hips against her with a little more purpose. _Once_.

With pained breaths, he wrapped his arms under and around her, tucking his head in her shoulder, crushing himself against her, movement sharp and uncontrolled. _Twice_.

Someone was swearing and Rose just _knew_ it was her. _Three times._

Light-headed and nearly scorched, she mouthed at the skin where his neck met his shoulder and rocked her hips against him. _Four times._

Rose dug her teeth into the spot she'd latched on to and Scorpius groaned deep like it physically _hurt_ to stop, but he did, gasping hard with shaking hands. Or was it hers? Hell, she didn't know.

"We—we should stop," Scorpius suggested in a voice barely above a whisper; mouth hovering over her skin. He sounded like he absolutely did not want to do any of that, but put as much distance as he could between their bodies with her legs still around him. "If we keep this up, we'll have to explain to your grandmother why we had to burn her favourite blanket."

Oh right.

_Fucking hell._

They were outside the bloody _Burrow_.  
Snogging and grinding on each other like two _lunatics_.  
_Completely_ in full view of _anyone_ who decided to come their way.

_Shit._

Rose let out a rather strangled and hysterical laugh.

How _else_ was she supposed to respond everything that had happened since she'd asked that stupid question? "I'd rather go flying with my dad than have that conversation."

Scorpius groaned. "Don't mention your dad. Not _now_."

Okay, shit. Shit. _Shit_.

She unhooked her ankles and they both got up, sitting right back in the position they started in: in front of each other, legs folded, knees touching. It was then that Rose noticed that while the lights were still on, still flooding the space around them in an odd hue, there was no more laughter coming from The Burrow.

_How long had they been out there?_

They got to their feet; their movements a little disoriented and slow. She found his glasses before he could step on them and put them on for him in a move that brought her right back into his space.

"Thanks," he murmured, staring at her intensely.

The air between them was still charged, still intense and potent.

_Electric_, the feeling supplied not-so helpfully.

The little shit.

Rose nodded, feeling almost as if she were still in a trance, torn between screaming and sobbing. Her vision blurred all at once as everything caught up to her, slamming into her from behind. Breathing raggedly, her head was pounding. She felt crushingly awkward, panicked and manic enough to start laughing again; fucking terrified and overwhelmed in a completely different sense. She was still dazed by what had just happened and her psyche overall was still fucked up from the last month and…_shit_.

She was about to lose it. _Again_.

The only reason she didn't because he draped her jacket over her shoulders. Numbly, she put her hands in the sleeves and let him carefully fasten each of the three buttons and fix the collar in an unnecessary move.

"Are we going to talk about this?" Rose blurted out in a voice so unlike her own that she _hated_ it. Then she hated it more that she couldn't stop herself from worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and looking at him with wide eyes. "_Everything_ is changing and I can't—"

"_Rose_." Scorpius said nothing else after that, just her name, but he was watching her closely with a look he often wore when he played—and lost to—her dad in wizard's chess. He was trying to figure her out—or maybe himself?

She wasn't sure because she couldn't spare a single thought to investigate him.

And yet, he cupped her face with his hands and spoke to her in a voice that cut through the fog and the craziness of her swelling emotions. "It's late…and it's been a long two days. You aren't in the mental space to discuss this, and honestly, neither am I." She put her hands on his wrists to steady herself. "I meant what I said about discussing all this when you're ready—"

"It may be a while," she told him truthfully. _If ever._

"It can wait." He was so earnest that it calmed the storm in her mind. "_I _can wait. As long as you need."

She exhaled. "Thank you."

He only nodded and his next movement was small, but she saw his eyes flicker to her mouth, then back up to hers. And before she knew what she was doing, she raised up on her toes, pausing just a hint of a second before kissing him.

_Oh_, it was most definitely thoughtless and she wasn't wholly sure why she had done it. As a thank you? Partly. But honestly, she'd done it because she felt her eyes watering and couldn't just stand there any longer. Not with him _looking at her_ like that, so open and breathtakingly genuine. Not with him speaking to her like that, so steadfast and direct. Not with her feeling both out of control and at some sort of strange peace. Not with everything churning noisily inside her head and her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Rose half-expected something far less intimate since they weren't lying down under the open sky or in a position equally as cheesy, but found nothing had changed. She wasn't exactly shocked at how easy it was, but focused more on how natural it felt to kiss him. How good it could be when she wasn't fighting it or threatening mutually assured destruction.

She focused on the air and the warmth between them; the way Scorpius groaned when she licked into his mouth and how the noise seemed to make the not-so cooled lava course down her spine. He held her close, with confident but shaking hands, deepening the kiss to something far more intimate—and a lot more terrifying. If it were anyone, she would have screamed and ran for the hills.

But Scorpius had never just been anyone, right?

Everything, every action and move, was making Rose's mind stutter and stall. And a stalled mind was a mind that wasn't processing or deflecting; one that wasn't busy burying everything under layers of soil and concrete; sarcasm and defence. _Honesty_ escaped from a crack in her foundation and whispered to her that—whether she knew it or not—she hadn't been entirely truthful with herself.

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

Scorpius broke the kiss and took a full step back, releasing her abruptly. "Pick up that end and I'll get this one."

Numbly, Rose helped him fold the blanket. Then he grabbed his jacket, not putting it on, but holding it close. They didn't speak as they walked; the floating lights on the path turning on and off as they passed under them. They walked by the simmering fire pit and benches, the flower garden, and the bird bath. He held open the side door for him and she deposited the folded blanket in the bin for washing.

Now came the hard part: manoeuvring through The Burrow without detection.

An excellent plan considering they both looked positively dishevelled.

Rose automatically knew her hair was hopeless and she felt clammy; not to mention her heart was still pounding out the rhythm of her edgy energy. Scorpius was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears, eyes distracted, mouth red, and hair wrecked.

Silently, they walked through the kitchen. There were dishes washing themselves in the sink, but everything else was clean and as tidy as Nan's kitchen was allowed to be. Rose peered up at the expanded clock that told her that her parents and everyone was at their respective homes, except for a few exceptions.

_Well, shit._

* * *

James, Uncle Bill, and Uncle Charlie were enjoying a nightcap together in the dining room and she tried to pass by quietly, but the floorboard squeaked and they all looked over at them. Her cousin acknowledged their presence by offering them a drink with a big grin, while her uncles looked at both of them curiously. Then, they exchanged looks. Uncle Bill's brow went up and Uncle Charlie finished his drink in response.

They spoke their own language sometimes and Rose never understood it.

"Come on then," James pushed. "We've got _plenty_."

Scorpius still sounded a bit throaty when he said, "I've got an early shift at the hospital."

Five points to him for the smooth lie.

Rose knew for a _fact_ that he didn't have to be there until ten.

"Fair," James shrugged then looked at her hopefully. "Rose?"

"Um," she patted down her hair and faked a yawn. "I'm tired. It's been a long few days."

Desperate times called for desperate measures and playing the sympathy card that soon worked.

"Oh," her cousin sat up straighter, eyes filled with concern that went completely against his personality. "If you want, I'll see you home."

"No, that's okay. I just need sleep." Rose spoke up quickly. "Scorpius will take me home," And he added a casual shrug of her shoulders. "It's perfectly fine."

"_I'm sure it is_," Uncle Charlie muttered. Uncle Bill almost choked, but coughed several times while hitting his younger brother in the arm repeatedly. Scorpius took a step back and Rose just looked at him as if he were nutters.

No need to act any weirder than they looked.

"What?" James looked at their uncles strangely.

"Oh, nothing," Uncle Charlie poured himself another drink, laughing. "Let's finish up here and let them get their…" He looked directly at Scorpius, who went stiff as a board. "_Rest_."

Uncle Bill smirked, and it was one she hadn't seen from him ever. "Scorpius, you've got something right _there_." And gestured to his neck. Where Rose had bitten him. While they were—_shit_. She hadn't noticed it before. How exactly she'd missed it, she didn't know.

It was _massive_.

Rose held her breath, but Scorpius kept his answer short and to the point. "Bug bite."

Bless him.

James seemed to finally notice it. "It looks like a—"

"We fell asleep in the grass." Scorpius reasoned, sounding very much like himself. _Thank Christ_ because she was scared for a moment that he'd been abducted and replaced by a pod person. "All sorts of creatures are out this time of year."

"_True_." Uncle Charlie replied, "All sorts of…" And looked directly Rose. "_Creatures_."

Bloody hell, _they knew_.

James, however, didn't suspect a thing or else he would have been a lot more annoying.

So that was one small favour.

Rose cleared her throat and grabbed Scorpius by the hand, turning it over so she could glimpse at his watch. "Oh, look at the time. We'll leave you three to it. Don't get too pissed then."

"Only if _you_ don't do anything _I_ would do."

She hated her Uncle Charlie _so_ much.

_So damn much._

Rose gave him a two-fingered salute that made both her uncles laugh hard and all but _dragged_ Scorpius from the doorway and down the hall in the direction of the drawing room; her uncles' amusement and James' confused _'what's so funny?'_ chasing them all the way.

_The worst._

And because her life was hard, her Nan was knitting Dominique's Christmas jumper with two others magical knitting needles going on either side of her. She had to start early if everyone was going to get one. One had a H and the other had a R. Hugo and Rose. Or her parents. Uncle Harry was still in the running, but not Roxanne. Neither were yellow. That was her favourite colour.

Her grandmother seemed a little surprised to see them, but grinned all the same. "Got cold enough out there, I see."

Rose's eyes widened and Scorpius went stiff as a board. "Huh?"

"I told Lily to go get you ages ago, but she must've gotten distracted talking about her fashion line and gossiping about other celebrities to Victoire, Dom, and Fleur and simply forgot." She chuckled whimsically, "Oh, that _girl_," and smiled fondly before she continued knitting. "Are you staying the night then? Bill and Fleur are staying, Louis and James, too. We have plenty of room."

"Ah, no," she answered quickly. "Scorpius is going to see me back to my flat."

Her Nan smiled warmly at him, "Such a good boy."

"We just came in to say goodnight," was his contribution to the conversation.

Still smiling, her grandmother bid them both a warm farewell. She told Rose to let her know if she needed anything, and she nodded quickly before backing out of the room and pulling him with her. They went down the hall to the sitting room, peeking in to be sure that it was empty before moving towards the Floo.

They stopped by her flat first.

Rose packed a bag, then decided to take a shower to clear her mind.

Did it work?

_Not one damn bit._

Still more than a little restless with an unfamiliar energy, Rose reminded herself that there was no rush and changed into warm sleeping trousers and a long-sleeved Slytherin shirt. When she went into the living room, Scorpius wasn't there and she figured he'd gone ahead to his flat to shower and prepare for bed.

After checking her wards, Rose left, stepping out the Floo at Scorpius and Al's flat moments later. Al was snoring away in his room, sounding like a bloody foghorn because he'd forgotten the damn silencing charm. Rolling her eyes, Rose fished out her wand and put up a charm so they all would sleep.

Scorpius was already showered and sitting on his bed in night clothes. His hair was still wet and the mark on his neck was as red as ever, but he looked far more like himself than he had when they were outside or inside when he seemed almost in a daze until they started asking about his neck. Rose breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't broken him—or herself—and knocked on his open door, alerting him to her presence.

"Hey." Rose dropped her overnight bag next to the door.

He echoed her greeting then gestured to her arm. "Do you want me to look at them?"

It couldn't hurt. "Okay."

Scorpius helped her roll up her sleeves so he could examine them as he had that morning. They looked no better than before, but she hadn't expected them to be healed. Not that soon. After applying the salve where it was needed, Scorpius sat the tin down and went to roll down her sleeves, but Rose stopped him because of her own restlessness.

She glanced over his shoulder at her dinosaur painting he'd hung up, then at the bowl she'd made that sat next to the moving picture of them, Al and Henrietta, taken on their last day at Hogwarts. There was another photo of them when they were younger sitting on his bookshelf front and centre. She had been asleep in front of a bonfire and Scorpius was curiously running his fingers through her hair and looking at her. In fact, the look he was currently giving her was similar; mostly mystified, but there was curiosity and something else…

_Hmm?_

Scorpius said her name carefully. "Rose?"

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his face with the tips of her fingers, watching him intensely like she had outside. The determination flared in her; to figure out the little things about him that she'd only recently begun to realise she didn't know or understand. Where to start?

All Rose knew was that her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. She thought back on snogging him outside, them moving against each other, the shock that wasn't electric, and everything about that bloody _feeling_ that had been following her around since.

Fuck that feeling.

It was a _massive_ pain in her ass anyway.

And yet.

In Muggle Studies Third Year, they had learned about Isaac Newton and how he'd discovered the existence of gravity because he'd been hit in the head by a falling apple. Not exactly a true story, but entertaining enough. Rose, having already known the story from Primary School, never understood how the hell falling apples could lead to theorising about the same force that kept the planets aligned.

But right then, it made sense, and it made her think about her own situation.

Three times, she'd felt that electric sensation when she'd kissed Scorpius—or had fallen into his face—_whatever_. Or was it four? _Five?_ Rose had lost count, she'd felt it so many times tonight alone, but it didn't matter. She never found out its identity or where the hell it wanted to take her, but Rose was smart enough to know that it would be back.

When something happened once, it was an incident.  
Twice was happenstance.  
But three times? Four? _Five?  
That_ was a pattern.

That feeling was a pattern and the not-zaps were, too.

Rose could do the same thing over and over—_kiss him_ at a different time, on a different day, in a different scenario—and expect the same reaction with the same not-zaps. She could drop as many apples as she could from any tree and they all would hit the ground. And like gravity, that stupid mysterious feeling was a fucking problem—an issue that she couldn't ignore, fight, or bury.

It was there to stay.

When she finally settled under the covers next to Scorpius in the darkness at his suggestion because it was nearly one in the morning, that feeling crept down the aisle and sat on the front row of her thoughts, watching her, waiting for her to address it. But she wouldn't—no, _couldn't_.

Not when her mouth was dry and her heart was racing.  
Not when all she could think to ask was: w_hat are you?_

Scorpius shifted a little closer. "Rose?"

"Hmm?" And cringed at how strange she sounded.

"Are you cold? You're shaking."

No, she wasn't, but knowing all she knew and a lot she didn't, Rose still shifted closer to him anyway. She needed the contact; the reassurance. Of what? She wasn't sure, but she wouldn't rest without it. Soon, Scorpius was pressed against her back, their legs entwined. He was spooning her; their breathing was in sync. And finally, _finally_ her heart slowed and the last bit of jitter in her muscles went still.

There was a lot on her mind still, and more clanging around in her chest. It was all tremendous and scary, just like everything else outside of his room with her ugly dinosaur painting hanging on the wall. But Scorpius was warm and all she could feel was his solid presence against her back.

Rose exhaled and closed her eyes.

She meant what she'd said before; that their kiss had a right to be just a damn kiss. It would only be an issue if they let it. But as she drifted to sleep with Scorpius' even breaths on the back of her neck, his arms around her; Rose's defences were low enough for her to acknowledge one thing:

She'd never been more wrong in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay now we have lift off of the romance-variety, awkwardness and insecurities and gah-I-messed-up and wtf am I doing? and all. The holidays (and The Rise of Skywalker) slowed me down so I'm posting now to prep for the wait. I'm all of 6 pages into chapter 15 and trying to organize the next set of events perfectly. I get obsessive like that. Cause it's about to get a bit wild. 
> 
> The first kiss was just that, a kiss. Easy to write off for Rose, but this one? Rose can't write this one off and she now knows that...and she's a bit messed up over it (and everything). Scorpius, too. Oh, and Hermione gave Rose two days to recoup and she's gonna get back to business (her timing will not be great). Barracus will be rejoining us shortly. I love complicating things. 
> 
> Anywho. Dinner with the Weasleys in the Burrow. Absolutely favorite thing to write about, could write a whole book about their family dinners, everyone's little interactions and hilariousness. Roxanne is adorable and very much George's kid, as I imagine. Late to the party (with her being a whoopsie kid) and causing chaos in her wake; giving James a run for his money. And Scorpius' bit about his type? That conversation was not planned at all, it just happened. I had no control because he seemed determined to make his point. And as you can see, Jane and Quincy's talk with her wasn't exactly a failure. Not at all. Bill and Charlie at the end? I was literally dying laughing as I wrote it. 
> 
> Yes, I'm the type that laughs at my own jokes. Don't judge me.


	15. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I know it makes you nervous  
_ _But I promise you, it's worth it  
_ _To show 'em everything you kept inside_  
_Don't hide, don't hide  
_ **Come Out and Play – Billie Eilish**

**Chapter Fifteen: Little Talks**

The morning found Scorpius awake far too early for anything else but coffee and reflection.

So, he did both in much-needed solitude.

Or as close to it as he could get.

The door to his bedroom where the source of his current contemplation slept was shut. Al was up, and if his off-key singing was indicative of anything, he was in _shower concert mode_ and it would be a while. Because of that, Scorpius took his time, going through the daily ritual of making coffee.

_Can I show you?_

His plan had been to investigate whether Rose reciprocated his feelings—not to display his own openly and with intensity. But he'd done just that. Scorpius shut his eyes; his head pounding out the truth that he had been reckless. Greedy. He'd just taken everything she had given him and buggered it all up in the process.

His strategy had been well-defined but simple.

Well, simple enough for all the variables and complexities involved in the fact that it was _Rose_.

If she didn't feel the same, Scorpius had created a second set of plans that would maintain their friendship without the awkwardness. Would it hurt? _Yes_. But life wasn't about getting everything he wanted.

But _if_ she reciprocated, he had worked out a proposal where they would agree to wait until everything with the dagger resolved itself. Only after would he present his research findings on the most efficient way to redefine their friendship into something more, and they would wade through the complications and particulars together.

And there were many.

However, what had happened last night had skewed his plan so far off course Scorpius wasn't sure if he could get it back on target. He was _still_ trying to figure out how they had gone from discussing special relationships to electric shocks to her challenging him to him accepting it to them snogging to—well, everything that happened after.

Scorpius had fewer regrets than he should, and felt guilty about it. The situation hadn't changed; the timing was still terrible. More than that, Rose had laid herself bare to him just that morning and he'd kissed her _knowing_ that she was at war with herself, buried under the weight of her own anxiety and the marks on her arms.

Kissing her had been both not enough and too much, and in the end, had left him emotionally raw. By the time Scorpius had turned the lights off, he had been so drained that he'd held on to Rose and fallen asleep almost instantly.

Three hours later, he'd woken up like that, too, with a dead arm and a dry mouth.

Next to him, Rose was breathing hard and sweating; lost in the throes of one of the nightmares she had only just confessed to having. Silent words, gasps, and tears had spilled from her, and it had taken Scorpius a moment to recognise her distress and react. She never woke, but relaxed when he held her closer, repeatedly whispering that it wasn't real. Nothing could hurt her because it was just a dream.

That she was safe.

Scorpius tried to fall back asleep after Rose had settled, but it was pointless.

He had other pressing issues that kept him awake.

Mainly their kiss.

He didn't need to know Rose as well as he did to see the apprehension, the confusion on her face; hear the hysteria in her voice, or sense the same raw vulnerability that he'd felt in himself afterwards. Scorpius meant what he said about waiting until she was ready. _He would_. It was his fault, after all. He'd accepted her idiotic challenge when he could have ignored her or deflected.

What was worse was that Scorpius had no excuses for his behaviour; nothing and nobody to blame except himself and the fact that ever since his birthday, he just—he just _wanted_.

It was senseless, really. He had remained silent on the matter, reinforced his self-control in an attempt to maintain all platonic pretences; all while jumbled up inside, wanting far more of her than his fair share.

And when the opportunity arose, all Scorpius could think was foolish and irresponsible thoughts. Which was _not like him_. He didn't _want_ to accept her challenge because he'd instantly known how to win the argument, but did it anyway.

Why?

Not to prove his point, but to kiss her again. To have a chance to speak his truth as clearly—and with as few words—as he could. It was the _only_ way to stop himself from blurting out everything that had been weighing heavily on him at the absolute _wrong_ time. What he hadn't counted on was losing complete control over himself in the process.

That had been…_troubling_.

Not to mention as unsettling as the cold shower he'd all but thrown himself into when he'd arrived home. And while one whispering thought cheered because he'd gone so boldly against his own rules and let go, the overwhelming majority of his thoughts had called him an errant masochist. Because how could he maintain the status quo after that?

What _was_ the status quo?

The scent of coffee tore him from his thoughts.

Scorpius went into the refrigerator and found the milk, skipping the cabinet because he didn't need sugar. After a sniff test, because Al had done the shopping, he deemed it safe and made himself the largest cup he could find. A splash of milk later and Scorpius found himself sitting alone at the table, using a bit of wandless magic to stir his coffee with a spoon.

Through and through, Scorpius was an intense planner and was _always_ in control of everything governable; knowing better than to worry about the intangibles. And that control he wielded was his weapon of choice, his talent and defence mechanism. It was how Scorpius had kept all the unexpressed emotions that simmered below the surface of his consciousness at bay, and how he had gone for so long without giving Rose any indication of his less-than-platonic feelings for her.

Feelings that had made themselves known that winter night on her front porch, and grew that next term and into their final year at school. However, just because he _liked_ Rose—the term grated his nerves with how _immature_ and inadequate it sounded—hadn't meant that he was required to _act_ on those feelings.

Rose was, well, _Rose_.

For at least a year after realising how he felt, Scorpius had _refused_ to entertain the thought of putting himself out there to her because she was a wild card and he didn't need that level of uncertainty in his life. Besides, he liked the dynamic of their friendship too much to muddy things.

So, Scorpius had dated other witches and watched Rose burn through bloke after bloke without so much as an errant jealous thought.

It was fine.

His feelings, he had reasoned, would go away eventually.

But they never did.

For five years, Scorpius waded in the waters of his emotions. It had been easy to float; nice to use her lack of emotional awareness to swim close to her without being obvious. But the rave, and what had followed, had been like cramping up with no way to swim back to shore. He found himself stressed and thrashing about; no longer able to tread water. The harder he struggled, the more tired he became, and the danger of him sinking increased.

He didn't want to drown. He wanted to live; to go back to swimming and floating like before. And he had tried, but talking to his dad made him realise that drowning was inevitable. He couldn't hold out any longer and he would sink, but only until he knew if he wouldn't drown alone.

And then his birthday had happened and somehow, despite his fatigue, he kept his leg and arms moving. It was the only way to keep from drowning before he was ready, before absolutely had to.

But last night he had lost the battle and sunk below the surface. He was lost.

And the thought felt melodramatic, but it was the truth.

Not once had he _ever_ felt such a _visceral_—such an intense, emotional and sexual reaction to a person. It had caught him completely off guard. When Rose had arched against him, all of his restraint had just _vanished_, only to be replaced by something Scorpius had never paid attention to because it was a useless feeling—_lust_.

Scorpius wasn't a blushing virgin. Sex was…well, _sex_. It felt good, but ultimately, it was just proof of mutual acceptance; a distraction and an exchange: sensation for security.

Until it wasn't enough.

What they'd done was nothing uncommon; if a little immature for their age. But for a few seconds, he saw the sort of person he could be without his well-trained guards, obsessive boundaries, complex codes, and heavy restraints.

And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Noises brought him back into reality.

It was Al, of course, obnoxiously slurping from a steaming mug of coffee. His hair was still wet and untidy, like always, and he was dressed in regular clothes. Oh, right. Today was his off day. He and Rose were going into London for fun and exploration.

_Cousin Time_, Al had declared before he and Jane had left last night.

Because hovering had always been his way of expressing concern.

Rose never had a defence for it, and neither did he.

Al was up far too early to be a mere coincidence. His plan for the day had involved spending time with Rose, who hardly could be described as a morning person. But here he was. Awake at five in the morning and staring at him with an expression that spoke of his concern.

_Exactly how long he had been sitting there?_

"A while," Al answered smugly, taking another slurp from his cup.

Scorpius glared at his best friend. "Out of my head, Al."

"Can't help it," he shrugged. "You think too loud. I could hear your angst in the shower."

He rolled his eyes. "So sorry to have disturbed your concert."

Al bobbed his head and sang in an off-key falsetto, "_I don't think you're ready for this jelly._ It's a metaphor. You wouldn't understand."

It was just ridiculous enough for Scorpius to bite back a smile; his head still too cloudy to really laugh. "You're utterly ridiculous."

He did a double take, tilting his head to the side. "As is the mark on your neck, _sweet Circe_. Who mauled you?"

Instinctively, his hand went to his neck, covering it. "Uh…"

Scorpius hadn't looked at it long earlier in the bathroom mirror; only noting that the mark was visible, thumbprint sized, and now nearly purple. Truth be told, Scorpius wasn't ready to talk about last night – with anyone – but when it came to his best friend, Al often compared him to a fish bowl, with all his thoughts visibly swimming about.

At least to him.

Still, that didn't stop Scorpius from attempting evasion. Poorly. "It's only a bug bite."

Albus took a long and exaggerated slurp from his drink as he searched his face for several moments. When he found what he was looking for, Al inhaled sharply, nearly choking on his coffee.

_Shit._

With mild disinterest, Scorpius watched him sputter and cough. However, when his face turned bright red, he heaved a sigh and took pity on him, slapping him on the back a few times until he stopped choking and started bombarding him with questions, "Are you having me on? _Seriously_? _Again_? What the bloody hell, mate?" Al slid his chair close enough to where their seats touched, looking too eager.

"Breathe."

Which was the absolute wrong thing to say.

"_Shut up,_" Albus waved his free hand wildly and Scorpius kept track of it because his best friend had a habit of hitting him accidentally when he got overeager. "No wait, don't." Scorpius loudly sighed, which made Al focus on him a little too intensely. "What happened? Start talking! I need details, but not _too_ many details, but _details_. Please?"

Perhaps he should have let him choke a bit more.

Scorpius took off his glasses and sat them on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. A stress headache was coming and soon. "I'd rather not talk about it." With that, he impolitely slumped back in his chair, head tilted back towards the ceiling as he exhaled.

His grandmother would be aghast by his poor posture.

When Scorpius lifted his head, Al was holding his cup to his lips, blinking at him. His patience was as thin as ever, but Al remained as annoying as ever as he took another long slurp and smacked his lips with a satisfied, "_Ah_…" before he sat his now empty cup down.

"_Why_ am I friends with you?"

Albus chuckled. "If I started looking now, I could find the list of reasons I wrote up in Fourth Year when I singed off one of your eyebrows in Potions. But because you always ask me this question at the weirdest of times, I took it upon myself to memorise a few."

Scorpius groaned. "Al—"

"One: I promised to eat all the food you don't like—"

"You eat the food I _do_ like," he countered.

Albus ignored him. "Two: your mum's tolerant of me."

"You're _literally_ the only friend of mine that she likes."

"She's opinionated and has high expectations for you, which makes me a valuable friend to have. You know, with my genetics all." Albus thought about it for a moment, "Speaking of family, that leads to three: statistically, middle children make the best friends."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. "I'm certain you made that up."

"I did, because four: I'm hilarious—"

"You're a troll."

"Ah, so you _do_ remember the list!"

Scorpius covered his face with his hands, groaning.

Al laughed, but eventually sobered, nudging him in the shoulder. "If you're done overthinking, I'm here to listen. I'm pretty good at it."

Well, that was true.

Scorpius peeked out from between his fingers and Al just grinned and prompted him with several complicated looks and eyebrow wiggles.

"I'm _positive_ you don't want to know the details."

Albus considered Scorpius for a moment, his face cycling between not wanting to know because his best friend's crisis involved his favourite cousin and wanting to know because he'd been the soundboard for all of Scorpius's thoughts since they were eleven. Eventually, he settled on a happy medium: "How about an overview."

Scorpius dropped his hands and started talking, filling him in on what happened after he and Jane had left – but without many details. "And then we snogged," he concluded his story, which was putting it _very_ mildly. "Again," he deadpanned.

Albus shot him a look that clearly asked, _do you think I'm stupid?_

Scorpius shifted his eyes from right to left. _Well…_

Al swatted his arm in mock protest. "_Oi_!"

His only response was to give a little shrug. "You walked right into that one, mate."

"I did, didn't I?" And with that, he slurped more of his coffee, which made Scorpius roll his eyes. "It's not like you to avoid the topic. That's more of Rose's shtick."

"I'm not avoiding."

He didn't agree and Al had always been expressive. "Try again."

"What?"

"Your answer from before. _'We snogged a lot…again'_." Al mocked with the assistance of air quotes. "You look a little too stressed out for there to just be a bit of snogging."

"I'm not stressed," he mumbled.

Al just blinked at him, gaze sharp and pointed.

His hands clutched the warm cup in his hand a little too tightly. "Not _that_ stressed."

Another blink. Then a disbelieving frown.

Scorpius sighed because lying to Al was not only impossible, it was futile. "_Fine_."

"On a scale of one to ten, how stressed out are you?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Remember my first summer at the Burrow when James convinced me that I had Vanishing Sickness? _That_ stressed."

Albus cringed. "I vaguely remember you crying when you found out that there's no cure. Then you cried some more while writing a note for your dad to bequeath your potions set to Teddy because he was the only one of your cousins who would appreciate it. You were about to leave everything else to me when my mum—"

Scorpius shot him a glare. "I thought we were never going to speak of that day."

"You brought it up!"

"It was pertinent to the conversation!"

"Yeah, well, _you_ snogged my cousin…_again!_"

"You _wanted_ me to snog your cous—ah, that got weird."

They glared at each other, then started laughing, quickly forgetting the argument because it didn't matter anymore. Al had a tendency to laugh as a last resort for when he was at a loss. Scorpius' laughter was more of a way to keep from pulling his hair out.

"So, what then?" Al nudged his foot with his own and smiled when Scorpius half-heartedly bumped his shoulder in a silent retort. "Knowing you, you've probably beat yourself up for everything that happened and you're well on your way to recalibrating and repairing your five-year plan like the analytical nerd you are."

Well, he couldn't argue any of that, but he tried, "First, it's not a five-year plan. It's a post-arrest-of-a-murderer plan. I believe you came up with the name."

"Details," Al shrugged casually.

"_Important_ details," Scorpius clarified.

Al huffed, running a hand through his still damp hair. "Pretty sure Part Two, Section D point one of your plan had nothing to do with letting Rose satisfy one of her wishes to be a vampire."

Scorpius felt himself go warm. "That's not quite how it happened." And then he told him, sparing him the specifics, how it actually happened.

After he finished, Al clasped his hands together and declared, "This sounds like a three-snack problem…that I'll have to wash down with a pint."

"How about breakfast?" Scorpius suggested because while the sun was barely up, it was probably too early for alcoholism.

"Are you offering to cook?" Because they both knew Al hadn't inherited his father's abilities in the kitchen. Or his mum's. He'd tried to boil rice once and Scorpius spent almost an hour trying to separate the char from the rice so he could eat it like the good friend he was.

It was still crunchy.

"I can make tofu scramble? Better yet, I have some of Hermione's cereal bars in there."

Al looked alarmed first, then disgusted. "I'd rather starve, thanks."

Scorpius shrugged. His loss.

"I recall your aunt teaching us how to make a Bloody Mary—"

"She taught us a lot more, too."

They both exchanged grossed-out faces.

"You had to remind me about the _last_ _thing_ I need to tell my therapist."

"You don't _have_ a therapist."

"I need one! Between this—" Al made a wild gesture that would not have made sense to anyone else, but made sense to Scorpius, "Going on between you and Rose. My own—_whatever_ with Jane that I can't seem to figure out because I can't figure _her_ out, I'm going to need one. When we were leaving last night, my mum smirked at me and told me to go for it; that Jane's lovely. _I know she is, mum!_ How am I supposed to say that when I can't string two words together?"

"Well, you just sit her down and—"

"I'm not taking advice from you because you can't even tell Rose how you feel."

Harsh, but not unwarranted.

Scorpius sighed, "I can and _I will._ I don't intend to wait forever."

Albus snorted. "Well, that's a relief. I happen to think you've already waited too long, but I can't convince you otherwise, so I'll keep my opinions to myself because you," he raised his fingers to make quotation gestures with them, _"have a plan."_

"I do."

"Ah, but you don't sound so sure about that," he leaned back in his seat, eyeing Scorpius.

"Stop reading me."

He only shrugged. "The best laid plans can go awry, and that's not always a bad thing. You can't plan everything without a margin of error. Humans don't work like that, and you _know_ that, but you can't help it because you've always _hated_ making mistakes."

Albus wasn't wrong. That was simply who he was. Scorpius looked over at his best friend only to find him staring back, as if he were gathering hints to organise his thoughts. So, whatever he was about to say had to be particularly relevant, and Scorpius listened.

"Mistakes sometimes happen when you're doing your best; when you've put yourself out there and _tried_. You can't avoid it. I think…" Al trailed off to readjust his words. "I think you need to talk to Rose without worrying that you'll fail. You'll only fail if you don't try. With everything happening, this is something you can't keep to yourself."

Albus started fumbling around with his hands, showing his unease with the direction their conversation was headed.

"I know you're scared," he told Scorpius without looking. "And that fear has made you stagnant. Not just about Rose, but about a lot of things. It's made you stay quiet when you need to speak up. I know your mum—"

Scorpius was taken aback by the very mention of his mother, so much that he blurted out, "This isn't about my mother."

"_But it is_," Albus stressed, running a hand through his hair. "A lot of your quirks are because the fact that she's a revolving door in your life. Don't try to lie or tell me I'm wrong. I've been here through _everything_. I know what both her absence and presence had done to you, even when you act like everything is fine, even when you're quiet." Al traced his finger along a line in the wood of their table. "And you're _always_ quiet."

"Al."

His best friend's face was serious. "Don't _'Al'_ me, you've always been like this: anxious about things you can't control and cautious to the point where you calculate each move before you make it. Plotting everything, being conservative, and making moves you don't truly agree with won't change anything. Life isn't like chess. There, you have to move the pieces in a way that's governed by rules. But there aren't any rules in life and because of that, you have more options than you give yourself. And that goes for more than just—"

"I see you paid attention during your uncle's chess lessons," Scorpius said sarcastically.

"_Actually_," Albus retorted. "Rose taught me a bit when it was her life's goal to beat her dad. Oh, and _you're_ deflecting," he accused, and probably rightfully so.

Scorpius was no longer interested in his coffee.

Al was silent for almost too long before he said, "Nothing you do will change what happened before with your mum; it won't make her stop leaving. And furthermore, it won't change what's happening with Rose now. In fact, living like that, it'll only make you miss out on opportunities with her because you play too conservatively."

"So, I'm supposed to—"

"_No_," he scoffed. "Be yourself."

"I _am_ being myself, Al," Scorpius argued. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"No," Albus shook his head. "You're being too considerate of everyone's feelings—well, except for your own. That goes for Rose, for your mother, for your _entire_ family except for your dad, for Hen—"

"What's wrong with that?" he shot back hotly.

"There's nothing wrong with being accommodating, but only to a certain extent. Maybe you're right to be that way with Rose now because she's a right mess, but outside of her, you do it too much. You sit back with your hypotheses, research, and data. You observe everything, but say _nothing_ to those who matter to you. You can tell Lily how you feel, but at the same time, you let people who are close to you do and say what they want, even if it hurts you. Because you're afraid that if your theory is wrong, if you push them too hard, if you tell them how you feel, they'll leave you like _she_ did."

He didn't like the way any of Al's words felt.

"_Enough_," Scorpius gritted out through clenched teeth.

Al obliged, leaning back in his seat with his arms stubbornly folded. Then he said, "I'm not wrong."

He wasn't. Scorpius was self-aware enough to admit that to himself, but notout loud.

"But I think," he continued after a thoughtful pause. "For all the credit you give Rose, I think you still don't give her enough."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, voice brittle.

"She's nothing like your mum—"

No matter how he felt, he definitely agreed with Albus on that. "She's the exact _opposite_ of my mother."

"Exactly," Al retorted. "And I bring that up because you should already know that she won't leave you, regardless of if she reciprocates your feelings or not. Rose is a lot of things, not all pleasant, but she cares about you. _Truly_. Outside of our family, there's no one who matters more to her than you."

Scorpius thought back on the cringeworthy conversation he'd had with Rose's dad. "You're the second person who's said that to me."

"_Then believe us_." Al implored. "You owe it to yourself to see where you stand."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Scorpius smirked without humour.

Albus looked unapologetic. "I'm not saying do that right this moment, but you can't sit on this and work out the calculations forever. You're stressing yourself out, and I hate seeing it. I'm pretty sure Rose can too, although she's probably not aware that she's the source of your stress." He rolled his eyes. "Take it from me, I've been in this boat with Olivia. You'll look up one day and the opportunity that you've been squandering will have slipped away…and you won't ever get it back."

"And if—"

"If you fail, then you fail, but anything is better than silence." Albus picked up Scorpius' lukewarm coffee and helped himself. "If it's any consolation, though, I think I managed to answer my own question about Jane." He looked resolved, determined. It was a scary look coming from Al, who like Rose – _and their parents_ – could be a little reckless when they believed in something.

Scorpius wasn't built like that, but he would be a fool if he tossed Al's advice in the rubbish bin without at least considering the validity of his points. Because they were valid.

"She asked me to wait to talk about it, so I'm going to respect her wishes. After that, perhaps—"

Al's eyes narrowed curiously. "Wait, she _asked_?"

"Um." He just blinked at him, not understanding why he was emphasising the last word. "_Yes_."

His best friend seemed to process that bit for a long time before he said, "And she didn't debate with you about anything stupid like whether or not you should use a fork when eating fish and chips?"

"No."

"Kirk verses Picard?"

"No."

"Cake verses pie? Because that's her go-to when she's avoiding."

"No."

"Not even who would win in a fight between a taco and a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"For the last time, _no_." Scorpius rolled his eyes incredulously. "She just asked if we could talk about it later. When I said yes, that I would wait as long as she needed, she kissed me again."

"_Wait_," Albus waved his hands like his dad did when he taught them both how to drive, albeit Al's motions were _far_ less panicked. "Am I missing something? Because I thought you snogged her after she told you to prove your point."

"That's right, but after I said I'd give her the time she needed, she kissed me."

"Voluntarily?"

Scorpius glared at him. "No, I forced her," he deadpanned. "Are you asking redundant questions because you don't understand or because you're trying to make a point?"

"_Both_." He slurped from his cup in a move that made Scorpius grind his teeth. "Do you think—"

Al's question was interrupted by the door to his bedroom opening.

Rose was awake and early, too. She slowly appeared around the corner looking bleary-eyed. Her hair was everywhere and her clothes were rumpled with sleep. Dragging her feet, she stumbled toward them while rubbing her eyes.

"Morning," he greeted tentatively, not knowing really what to say to her. "You're up early."

"Bed's cold," she mumbled grumpily. "Come back to—" Rose stopped short, seeming to become a little more cognizant of her surroundings. She looked at her cousin first, then frowned and cut her eyes to him. Her cheeks quickly flushed with what could have been embarrassment, if her awkward stance and body language were to be believed.

_Or perhaps something else_, that small errant part of his brain traitorously whispered.

He hushed the thought.

Rose didn't look away, keeping her gaze fixed; her face oddly soft and mouth slightly parted, eyes warm and dazed, and yet, far more open than usual. "You're different in this dream, but the same."

Maybe it was because Rose's brain was still booting up, but there was something in her stare that seemed thoughtful and inquisitive; something in her eyes that made _him_ feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. She was across the room, out of reach, but that still felt too close.

Albus melted into the background when Scorpius said her name. "Rose?"

"_Cold_," Rose's eyes seemed to clear a bit more. "Am I—_shit_, I'm awake, aren't I?"

Scorpius just nodded in confirmation while Al awkwardly answered, "_Yes_," from behind him.

"Ah," Rose mumbled, breaking her stare finally to look down at her sock-covered feet. "Hmm."

And with that, she turned around and went back into his room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. Scorpius watched for several moments to see if she would return; not knowing if he wanted her to or not because he sure as hell didn't know what to make of that interaction.

Neither did Al. "What just happened?" he asked from his seat.

Scorpius turned his head, "That was…odd."

"Rose _is_ odd." His best friend shrugged, but his mind seemed to be working double time if the look on his face was indicative of anything. "But I wonder—"

"I think I'm going to go in early today," he announced abruptly, still feeling restless. "I have training and a lot of charting to catch up on." Al moved to gather their mugs, but Scorpius stopped him. "I'll take them. Are we having lunch? If so, Henrietta will want to join us."

He nodded, still looking a bit distracted. "Rose and I will bring you something from that vegetarian place nearby that you like."

"Thanks."

And it wasn't until he was washing his coffee cup when it dawned on him.

_You're different in this dream, but the same._

She dreamed about him?

And as his thoughts shifted in another direction – one that made him think that he hadn't _completely_ messed everything up last night – Scorpius figured that a second cup of coffee was entirely warranted.

* * *

The morning passed like molasses.

Minute to minute, the work was slow. The wait for the Muggle medicine training class to start was interminable. Not only did Scorpius catch up on file documentation and visit several patients, but he oversaw the discharge of his last of his patients on The Watch List – a list of patients that fit the profile of the previous victims.

All were patients of various backgrounds, blood statuses, and ethnicities; all essentially had been abandoned, with no family or friends. No one that visited. No one that would miss them. And more importantly, each had been suffering from incurable disease or critical injury; deteriorating despite all attempts at magical intervention. Death was inevitable, and even if they _had_ defied the inescapable and recovered, there was little to no chance of them living a normal life.

It seemed morbidly ethical, and the thought made Scorpius shudder.

Dubbed _The Watch List_ because apparently Hermione had never been good at naming things, the patients that fit the criteria were quietly clustered together in each department and Aurors were assigned to each unit for guard duty.

When Albus joined the team, he had been assigned the Trauma Unit; an assignment that told them both that Hermione, while not actively part of the investigation, was still moving pieces behind the scene.

Which was to be expected, really.

There hadn't been any suspicious deaths since Rose's attack, but Scorpius was a pragmatist and the fact that the deaths had just _stopped_ never sat right with him. Rose's attack had put too many eyes on them, but they weren't done. They were biding their time, lying low and waiting for the vigilance to lessen; for them to get arrogant.

And they were at that point.

The once noticeable tension in St. Mungo's had all but evaporated and Cauldwell, as acting head investigator, had taken credit for that. But everyone knew the truth and quietly praised Hermione for bringing peace to the hospital. Scorpius almost felt bad for Cauldwell, who regularly fielded questions about Hermione's return, but his sympathy had ended after he'd turned Rose over to Barracus in the Ministry. Now, he remained professional in Cauldwell's face all while knowing that, if Rose's mother had her way, his days in the DMLE would be numbered.

And she would.

"Healer Malfoy."

Scorpius looked up from his work at Healer Brown; momentarily taken aback by her presence in the doorway of the empty lounge area he'd ducked off into almost fifteen minutes before. He'd gone there to work in peace. With him sharing an office with two other loud Healers, he needed all the quiet he could find.

"Are you attending the training class?"

"I am," he replied, glancing at his watch. It was almost nine. "Class starts at ten."

"Ah."

Scorpius half-expected her to leave, having gotten her answer, but she lingered in the doorway.

Healer Brown wasn't known for being social. The other staff didn't like her at all. Until Rose, she hadn't kept an assistant for more than a few weeks before someone requested a transfer—likely the assistant. Scorpius knew what they said about her, even though he hardly paid attention to rumours. They called her an uptight and an unreasonable perfectionist that was angry and bitter about not being beautiful anymore. But those opinions of her had only started circulating after she'd refused to answer anyone's questions about the war, her injuries, and recovery.

Lavender hadn't always been that way, or so Aunt Daphne had told him as much when Scorpius mentioned her at their family dinner. He'd thought that her current character profile had a lot to do with being viciously attacked by a werewolf at seventeen; not to mention the psychological trauma that came with nearly dying. The cherry on top had to be the fact that _everyone_ treated the absolute worst day of her life it like it was just a story to tell over butterbeers.

And then there were the visible reminders; the teeth and claw marks that people never stopped staring at when they thought she wasn't paying attention. The scarring was jagged, much like Rose's uncle, but there was a certain level of savagery that was different from Bill's.

The werewolf hadn't intended for her to survive, and it was a wonder that she had.

"Is there something else?" he asked as an attempt to give her a reason to take her leave.

But Healer Brown took the seat across from him in a move that surprised Scorpius. Outside of the occasional nod, she never acknowledged his presence when Rose wasn't around. They had very little in common and no reason to communicate. And that was that.

"I was wondering if the Trauma Unit has an assistant to spare. I've been borrowing from all the other wards, but no one is as good as Rose at…well, pretty much _anything_." There was genuine fondness on her face. It made her look pleasant; her standoffish public persona stripped away.

It almost made him smile, but then he remembered himself.

"You'll have to talk to our Lead," Scorpius told her then checked his watch again. "He's not here yet. He usually gets in around ten, but I can talk to him after training. Do you have any suggestions or preferences?"

Healer Brown had obviously thought about it because her answer was immediate. "They must be interested in Incorrectly Applied Charms, but must have a healthy knowledge of various types of charms and potions as I'll be filling in for Healer Pine in the Long Term ward as he's gone on sabbatical to Brazil until the end of the year. Oh, and they must be talented at diagnostic charms. Furthermore, I don't want anyone who will stare at my face or be intimidated by the sheer amount of paperwork in my office that I _refuse_ to sort through because I _despise_ paperwork."

Scorpius chuckled. "I'm not certain we have an assistant that will fill all those requirements."

"True," she frowned almost primly. "I suppose I'll settle for someone breathing."

It was likely meant to be a joke, but Healer Brown looked completely serious and her scars always made her look so severe, even when she smiled.

He was about to start looking around awkwardly, but Lavender smirked. "Good help is hard to find."

Scorpius flashed a tight smile. "True." After tucking his hair behind his ear, he made a mental note to get a haircut before seeing his mother again because he didn't want to hear her complaints. Then he remembered something he wanted to ask her, "Have you heard anything about Rose being cleared?"

As her boss, Scorpius figured she would hear something before any of them.

"No, but I would be very surprised if she wasn't cleared. The evidence is her favour is strong."

Which was an odd way to phrase it.

"Do you believe her?" Scorpius asked, watching her closely for any signs of deception.

She didn't answer immediately, but not because she was hesitating or because she knew he wouldn't like her answer; it seemed as if she were choosing her words. But for all the thoughtfulness she put into her answer, it ended up being short. "I do."

"I think Rose would be hurt if you didn't believe her," he glanced down at the patient's folder before looking back across the table. "She respects you."

"Well, she probably shouldn't." Lavender said in a tone that sounded facetious, but based off her tone from her last confirmed joke, he knew that she was serious. "I'm a terrible boss. I'm certain my past assistants will attest to that. People talk. They do little else." She rolled her eyes and examined her fingernail. "It's a wonder she's coming back at all after…" Healer Brown trailed off, but Scorpius filled in the rest.

"She's determined to see this through."

Lavender's almost neutral look slipped. "I'm afraid of that." There was another moment of silence while Healer Brown looked around the room and Scorpius theorised that her tense body language had more to do with her concern for Rose's safety than anything else. "When they clear her, it will likely be a few weeks before she returns. Hence why I'm looking for a stand-in."

"Why so long?"

"Bureaucracy," Healer Brown shrugged. "Suspicious deaths bring out the red tape, so to speak."

"I wouldn't know," he glanced down at his notes. "I've never seen or dealt with anything like this. Suspicious death and cloaked figures sound like the stories my dad used to tell me growing up."

"I'm sure your dad has _many_ stories to tell." But her words weren't cruel, nor were they filled with same derision most everyone else spoke in when they mentioned his father and grandfather. Healer Brown's statement was very mater-of-fact.

He could respect that.

Scorpius loved his grandfather, but never revered him the way his dad had when he was growing up. He never wore blinders to the fact that his grandfather was a recovering bigot and his dad hadn't always made good choices, which was putting it lightly. And that was because his father never held back or hid the ugly details of his own life; the things he'd done that he hadn't been proud of, the reasons why, or the people he'd hurt along the way. He remembered them all, and used his own mistakes to show Scorpius that there was a better way.

That he _always_ had a choice.

When Scorpius said nothing in response, only finished the sentence on the patient's chart he had been working on before her arrival, Healer Brown sighed, "I didn't mean that."

"I didn't take offence," he told her simply as he sat down his quill and closed the file. "I just don't talk about my family at work. My last name alone can sometimes create a hostile work environment."

At that, Healer Brown snorted, and Scorpius knew that she didn't mean to because she flushed apologetically; her scars standing out more against her reddening face. "Sorry."

He merely shrugged and she flashed something close to a smile.

"Well, I have patients," she announced, as she braced the arms of the chair in preparation to stand. "Please remember to talk to your lead for me."

"I will."

Healer Brown stood to leave, then stopped. "Before I forget. You probably should get something to cover _that_," she gestured to his neck, much to his literal horror. "The glamour is excellent," she assured him, while seeming to take a closer look. "It's well-placed and seamless; barely noticeable. Who set it?"

"I did," he confessed after a quiet moment. He could have asked Al – or _not_ Al because he was terrible at healing _anything_ – to heal it, but he hadn't bothered. Instead, he'd set the glamour in the bathroom after his shower.

"You're very talented," she said, her tone almost warm but clinical. "Glamours are something of a speciality of mine; that's how I noticed it. I was a teenaged girl at one point so I know all about covering a love bite."

All he could muster was a quiet, "It's just a bug bite."

Healer Brown just shot him a blank look. "That you want to cover…because of the teeth marks."

Very rarely was Scorpius ever lost for words, but he couldn't think of a single comeback.

Which ended up being just fine because Healer Brown continued on as if she hadn't deduced a thing—or ruined his morning. "The Muggle Maladies ward is a dead zone for all magic, so all glamours will stop working when you enter and you won't feel it." She opened her bag and fished around for a bit before pulling out a tube of concealer. "Put this on. It's what I do. You're pale and it won't blend right without additional work or makeup, but we aren't the same shade and, in this case, something is better than nothing."

Warily, he accepted it, tucking it into the pocket of his robes. "Thanks?"

But her comments gave him pause, made him think, made him wonder. He'd always taken her scars at face value. Horrific as they were, now he wondered if there was more to them than what he saw.

More that she hid.

"May I ask…" he trailed off when she tensed as if she'd already guessed his question. Scorpius could have asked about the obvious elephant in the room, but it seemed intrusive. "Where did you study Healing?"

Visibly, she relaxed and answered his question without any hesitation. "In the States. They didn't know much about the war and I wanted a fresh start. Recovering…wasn't easy. It well took over two years and was…gruelling. It took another two years for me to complete my NEWTs, but I made it through the academy before anyone realised where the scars came from."

"I suppose your recovery made you want to go into Healing."

"Perhaps," Lavender shrugged. "It wasn't my original ambition, but things change," her voice was almost wistful. "Originally, I wanted to have a talk show on the Wireless. Something fun and interesting, but informative."

"It's not too late."

Her frown turned bitter. "It's far too late for me."

Scorpius knew that tone. He'd heard it in his father's voice over the years: regret mixed with resignation. And he wondered about things he had no business wondering about. "Aren't you attending the training class?"

"I'm exempt," Lavender told him blandly and before he could ask, she continued, "I didn't find what I was looking for at the Academy, so I stayed in the States and went to University to study medicine. After I did my internship and residency in New York, I spent several years working in different hospitals all over the country. Any horrific way a human can hurt another, I've seen it and treated it. That's why I'm exempt."

He'd heard rumours about her being a certified Muggle doctor, but he never cared to listen to rumours. "How did you end up back here?"

"My family wanted me home. After all, I'd been gone more than twenty years."

"In the States?"

"Not for the entire time." Lavender clarified. "I'm interested in mixing science and magic to cure what we've deemed incurable, so I went to Italy to study under a team of wizard that wanted to do just that. I believe they're the Healers that created the treatment for your mother's blood illness."

That piqued his interest. "Did you—"

"I wasn't part of that project. I was working on a project that involved neutralising magical objects."

"Is that even possible?"

"It is, but we never fully tested it. They didn't agree on a few of my ideas, so I ended up leaving and travelling the world, learning every type of healing and medicine I could. In China, I studied traditional medicine and alternative magic; in India, I studied Ayurveda and so much more. I've lived and studied neutralising magic in Uganda, Istanbul, Nepal, Peru, and a few other places."

Scorpius was fascinated by her travels; had questions about what she'd seen and done in all those countries. But the question at the forefront of his mind was: "What are you trying to cure?"

Healer Brown just looked at him, surprised. She opened her mouth to answer, but Henrietta burst in. And the first thing he noticed was that she was covered in an alarming amount of blood. She was gripping her wand, looking madder than he'd ever seen her.

"Need an extra pair of hands, Malfoy. We've got two unlicensed sixteen-year-old males, home from Durmstrang on holiday. They attempted to Apparate and Splinched themselves."

Conversation forgotten and files not quite completed, Scorpius stood up. "How bad?"

"One's stable, Chambers and Humberg are reattaching his missing hand. The other is…well, the good news is that I've controlled the bleeding."

The _for now_ was heavily implied.

"And the bad?"

"They can't find his leg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, this took a while. Probably because I was writing two chapters and trying to call it one, as always. Little talks was literally all I could think of for a title because while they're little, the talks are important. Lyrics credit to Beyonce for Al's shower song. In my head, Al sings Muggle pop songs in the shower and I literally died laughing at the mental image. Idk. I couldn't help it. *shrugs*
> 
> My goal was for there to be more humor and some angst and a lot of characters driving the romance plot...and the actual plot. Besides that, I got some reflection from Scorpius. His side to things, and his mixed up feelings and thoughts. An awkward morning after encounter from a not-so-awake Rose...but also possibly a moment of clarity. Also I got to write Al being the hilarious voice of reason to his stressed friend, and throw a little of his dilemma with Jane in there. And we get to see Lavender again and get some backstory. All in a day's work. Also a missing leg. Next chapter's almost done and edited. I'm so looking forward with it being up and out of my hair cause its causing me anxiety, hoping I don't create plot holes. Til next time!


	16. The Blindspot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He deals the cards to find the answer  
_ _The sacred geometry of chance  
_ _The hidden law of a probable outcome  
_ _The numbers lead a dance_
> 
> _I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier  
_ _I know that the clubs are weapons of war  
_ _I know that diamonds mean money for this art_  
_But that's not the shape of my heart  
_ **Shape of My Heart – Sting**

**Chapter Sixteen: The Blindspot**

Scorpius never gave the glamour a second thought; his focus completely on saving the leg of a scared teenager that had tried to Apparate on a dare.

Which they did.

But only because the scared friends of the boys—and their parents—had turned up at the St. Mungo's with the leg.

After the patient was stable, a representative from the Misuse of Magic Department arrived to collect statements and to lecture them about the dangers of trying to Apparate without a license. Henrietta didn't like how gentle the Ministry employee was being with the boys and took over with graphic details about Splinched body parts while Scorpius stood next to her and pretended that he and Al hadn't done the same themselves at their ages.

Well, not the Apparating part, but…well, anything stupid enough to get them hurt.

Or expelled.

By the time she finished her diatribe, the boys were scared, and their parents looked uneasy.

Not to mention, it was nearly time for training class.

Scorpius gently tapped her shoulder, knowing she was a stickler for punctuality, and made sure he noted the time when she looked irritated by his interruption. Together, much to the relief of the friends of their patients, they made a quick exit, leaving aftercare directions for the team of assistants and Medi-witches; making it to the Muggle ailments ward with fifteen minutes to spare.

The Muggle Maladies department was quiet with staff milling about, but no one paid them any attention. They were used to the extra presence, as their department was where all the safety meetings had taken place as of late. And where the classes were taking place. Scorpius hadn't recognised anyone from the Trauma Ward, but that was to be expected as everyone tended to show up closer to the top of the hour. As wands weren't allowed in the ward, Scorpius checked in his wand with the attendant, who never bothered to glance in his direction.

Henrietta cleared her throat from beside him. "What is _that_? And if you insult my intelligence by saying that it's a bug bite, I will—"

"It's not," Scorpius heaved a sigh, tired of the conversation topic. "Glamour's don't work here."

The frown on her face was almost cartoonishly deep. "Who did this to you?"

He didn't answer, reaching into the pocket of his robes for the concealer Healer Brown had given him. Without looking, he proceeded to dab the product on his neck. Mumbling something that sounds like _boys_, Henrietta huffed in exasperation and snatched the tube from his hand. Angling his chin, she glanced at the concealer she'd snatched from him and squeezed a small amount on her finger.

"You're going to need more than this to cover that, but we'll make do." And she proceeded to work on blending it into his skin. "It's fresh," she analysed, much to his exasperation. "You could have healed this—no, you don't like doing magic on yourself." she looked at him hard, while he stared straight ahead. "At the very least, Al could have healed it."

"Al turned my fingernails to stone in Sixth Year."

In the end, Rose ended up trying every relevant spell she'd found in books in the Restricted Section until one of them worked.

"I remember that," Henrietta shook her head. "I'm _still_ trying to figure out what healing spell he did wrong to make that happen. Didn't he singe your eyebrows off during Potions Fourth Year?"

"_And_ Seventh Year."

She chuckled with a small shake of her head.

Henrietta liked Al; potion accidents, charm misfires, and quirks notwithstanding. Like everyone, she found him charming and even-tempered—well, outside of the moments where he showed the volatile nature of his temper. But that part of his personality had only presented itself a few times over the years. Henrietta had been around long enough for her to recognise the warning signs. She could predict Al's pattern of behaviour and adjust hers to fit with his.

With Rose? Not so much.

"Probably for the best, then." Then she went back to work, trying to deduce the reason behind his actions—or inactions. "Still, you had ample opportunity to fix this, which only means—"

Scorpius tensed, cautioning in a low voice. "Henrietta—"

And she ignored him the moment she realised: "Rose did this."

He sighed.

"And I'm right, I _know_ I am, because it's just like her to be so inconsiderate."

He wasn't in the mood for any part of her upcoming lecture. Because there was going to be one. Scorpius could feel it coming. The cease-fire they had agreed on the day Rose had been released, and the subsequent rumours, had kept her quiet for the last few weeks, but it hadn't changed the fact that she still didn't like Rose.

"Look, Henrietta, I'm tired and I don't want to discuss it."

But that wasn't enough to stop her.

Only now, there was the added look of concern on her face that was painfully genuine. It almost made him feel bad about rolling his eyes.

Almost.

"I'm only saying this because I'm your friend, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. I've watched you for weeks now, it's tearing your apart. Meanwhile, she's gone on like she always has. It's—"

"I should have never told you."

He had always taken the approach of keeping Henrietta close, but not too close. However, in a rare moment, he'd let his guard down and told her everything that had transpired on his birthday over butterbeers after work.

And she had reacted as expected.

Later, he'd wondered why had he had expected differently. Perhaps he'd expected too much from her—believing that her ceasefire with Rose would extend beyond Henrietta not glaring openly at her whenever they were in the same room.

He'd miscalculated.

Before Scorpius had even finished telling the story, Henrietta had listed out all the reasons why he'd made a mistake and how Rose's complete lack of response after was a true testament of her platonic feelings.

"You're wasting your time," she reiterated for the second time in three weeks as she dabbed more concealer on his neck that he'd deemed necessary. But what did he know? Henrietta made a frustrated noise and continued, "She's just going to use you and keep telling herself that you're just her friend. Find someone proper – someone your mother _actually_ approves of because that will make your life easier – and put her behind you. It won't work out with Rose because it's impossible for someone as selfish as her to think of someone other than herself."

It wasn't her opinions that irritated him; she was entitled to believe whatever she wanted. It was her _tone_ that grated at him. Her words and manner were cold, sharp like a broken piece of stone. She was steadfast in her belief, unwavering in her opinion of Rose despite evidence that could argue otherwise.

He never like arguing with Henrietta, especially about Rose, because she would immediately dismiss him as biased when he wasn't. At Hogwarts, Scorpius had made it a habit to take Rose to task when she had been wrong or too brutal with her honesty; he always brought her back when she went too far. And because of that, he was completely aware of Rose's flaws and weaknesses. He could outline them in extreme detail with examples, and could even cite his sources.

Henrietta firmly believed that people were like rubber bands: willing to stretch enough for others to believe that they would always maintain their new shape, but inevitably would snap back and revert back to their true selves. To her, Rose would remain the same selfish and temperamental, loud and crazy, situationally motivated slacker with potential she squandered on purpose simply because she _could_. Because of the privilege that came with being the daughter, granddaughter, and niece of heroes.

But Scorpius knew better; knew that her logic was flawed simply because people were capable of development – capable of change. People just weren't the same at seventeen as they would be at twenty-one. Or thirty. Or fifty.

His father was not a rubber band. He _had_ changed…mostly. He'd grown to be a different man from the boy he'd been in the stories he'd candidly shared with Scorpius. Not necessarily good, but not all bad; different enough to raise him to be the man he'd become.

Granted, his change had come after making all the wrong choices, trauma, and nearly dying.

But that didn't nullify the work his dad had done. His father had taken the time to learn more about the world outside of his own father's beliefs of their superiority and had become more tolerant as a result. Because of his dad, Scorpius believed that if someone _really_ decided to change – if they laid the foundation, put in the work, and sought to be better – they _could_ become more enlightened and change their thoughts and perceptions.

However, the argument about change was pointless.

It didn't matter to him if Henrietta believed that Rose would ever change because he didn't think there was anything wrong with Rose.

Henrietta, like most people, had read Rose entirely wrong.

Of course, there were things he didn't like; irritating things that she would—_or likely wouldn't_—grow out of as she grew older, found her passion, and became more confident in herself and of her place in their world.

But those things made her _Rose_, and he appreciated it.

Scorpius thought about letting it go and allowing Henrietta to air her grievances yet again, but as he thought back to his conversation with Al that morning, it made him pause. He recalled each time she had marginalised his feelings for Rose without actually caring how it had made him feel…and well, he _refused_ to have another conversation like that with her.

"You say she's selfish." Scorpius said carefully, "Actually, you say more than that."

"I do," she replied, unapologetic in her opinions.

Which only encouraged him to keep speaking. "You state your opinions firmly, even though you don't know Rose well enough to make _any_ comment on her character with absolute certainty."

Her hand froze for a beat, then continued dabbing with her finger. "That may be true," Henrietta admitted slowly. Scorpius could almost visualise her reluctance to admit that much, but he took it because she rarely gave him that much. And then she continued, "But I can say that she calls you just a friend, even though she keeps you too close. Her actions only confirm my statement."

Before last night and that morning, Scorpius might have agreed.

Over his second cup of coffee that morning, he sat down and _really_ broke down everything from the night of his birthday until last night.

Al had helped with putting everything into perspective because sometimes, a second set of eyes and opinions, made all the difference.

To be fair, Scorpius had received far too much attention for all the wrong reasons by witches and their families who wanted him for what he was set to inherit, but not who he was as a person. And because of that, he could tell the difference between a performance and the real thing.

And, well—the way she kissed and touched him, swore and sighed against his mouth, shivered and moaned against him – _that was real_. Rose wouldn't fake that, nor would she because that wasn't how she operated.

Last night, Scorpius had been there in the maelstrom with her, but still managed to remember little details. There was her curiosity and fascination. Her focus and the experimental way she moved against him. The way Rose relinquished the control she'd always clung to; it had been a testament of her trust in him. But there was more; her confusion and apprehension. The stress. Oh, and not to mention her panic. There had been so much of it that he could almost smell it burning in the air, taste it on her skin.

But despite it all, she never let him go.

And he realised something.

Rose _never_ had a problem saying no, voicing her opinions, or being a complete and utter _shit_ when someone did something that she didn't appreciate. In Fifth Year, she had punched one of the McLaggan brothers for moving his hands too low while dancing at the Yule Ball. And even though there had been plenty of opportunities, not once had she _ever_ told him to stop or pushed him away. Scorpius had initiated most their kisses, asked for her permission in one way or another, and she had granted it.

Each and every time.

No.

More than granted; she had been an active participant.

But the final kiss? That had been _all_ her, and she hadn't asked. For no other reason than the fact that it had caught him off guard, Scorpius thought about that one more. It stuck out to him. It was clearer. And yet…he couldn't understand why she'd done it, but it wasn't like Rose was ready to offer any answers. After Scorpius reflected on it and reviewed the evidence, he understood not only the deeper meaning behind her request, but the message in their last kiss:

That whether she recognised or understood it, Rose had felt _something_.

And small flame of hope ignited in him.

He would need it in the weeks to come.

Henrietta mistook his silence as permission to continue stating her case. "Rose is—"

"Not here to defend herself," Scorpius interjected firmly.

Henrietta met his serious gaze and rolled her eyes in response. "I'm positive that you don't chastise _her_ for talking about me when I'm not around."

"She doesn't talk about you, except to note that you don't like her." He recognised that his words were abrupt, but he wasn't in an appeasing sort of mood. The statement didn't bother her at all, judging from the noncommittal shrug she gave. "The feeling, as you know, is absolutely mutual, but she doesn't openly insult you in my presence."

At that, Henrietta looked away and down; her cheeks colouring with something that looked like shame, which was odd. He'd seen her chastened before, but for as long as Scorpius had known her, she'd never felt bad about any of her words or actions – even the ones that had left her friendless for her first year at Hogwarts.

But in the blink of the eye, it was gone.

"Look," she had a pinched expression on her face as she eyed her handwork on his neck. "I feel bad that she was hurt and had her memories altered, but that's the extent that my sympathy goes." And with that, Henrietta handed him the concealer and stepped back. "I'm finished."

"Thank you," he replied with a tight nod, pocketing the concealer to return back to Healer Brown and continuing on with their conversation that wasn't finished. Not in the least. "You're allowed to feel the way you do about her, just like I am."

She heaved a sigh like he was being a complete idiot. "I just think—"

"I don't _need_ you to think." His tone was harsher than intended, but he found himself unable to soften it; the words were just flowing out if him like lava down the side of the volcano right after an explosion, burning any and everything in its path. "I just need your support because regardless of what happens, regardless of if this is a mistake or if it explodes in my face, you're my friend and I need you to _act like one_."

Her expression shifted from disbelief to anger; fists curling at her sides. "I've _always_ been a good friend to you, Scorpius, but sometimes being a good friend is speaking up when I think you're wrong. That's what I'm doing."

"And that's true, but _sometimes_ being a good friend is letting me figure it out for myself."

"But Rose is—"

Scorpius stepped back. "She might be a lot of things, but she's not the person you've turned her into. She's—" he paused to collect his thoughts then realigned his next words; his conversation with Al still weighing on him. "I'm not perfect, Henrietta, far from it."

At that, she just looked at him, confused by his sudden shift.

"It's true," he fixed his glasses with a quick flick of his finger. "When I'm at work, I make quick and sound decisions, but in my personal life, I obsess and overthink over the decisions I make. I plan too much, so I'm slow to follow through because I'm hyper aware that every single one of my actions has an equal and opposite reaction…and there are risks that I can't calculate before taking them."

Because risking it all and failing had always been his biggest fear.

His boggart.

"The burdens on my shoulders are constantly there, weighing me down. My father encourages me to live my own life, but I'm a Malfoy and that means a great deal, both good and bad. I won't ever be anonymous. No matter that the media says I'm the future of my family; the one to bring the Malfoys into a new age, I will _always_ have to pay for their sins. I will _always_ have to work harder, be better than good enough, act a certain way, and prove myself. But I've accepted it."

Henrietta looked down at her feet.

"I've accepted a lot of things," he told her honestly. "I've accepted that I have other problems; things I don't and _won't_ talk about because they hurt, and frankly, I'd rather not. But Rose knows these things about me and when I'm—"

"You don't think _I_ know any of that?" Henrietta folded her arms across her chest. "You're one of my oldest friends, Scorpius. Hell, you're my _first_ friend." And her cheeks coloured a bit more as she looked past him for a moment. Then, she met his gaze; the bitterness coming off her in waves. "I only figured them out by paying attention because you've never _once_ told me anything too personal. You don't trust me like you trust _them_."

He knew exactly who she was talking about. And her tone gave him pause; made him think.

Often, he had put Henrietta on the backburner; because he'd assumed that she didn't need attention. He would neglect to invite her places, but figured she didn't want to be bothered or spend any more time around Rose than she had to. And he knew how often he didn't confide in her, but never once thought about how that would make her feel.

He'd been wrong, and for that, he was sorry.

He would do better in the future, and he started right then by being perfectly honest with her.

"I trust you." Scorpius told her candidly.

She said nothing, only listened.

And he talked.

"I just don't share everything because I don't want or need your particularly harsh form of judgment or negativity. Stating your opinion is one thing, but tearing me down for the decisions I've made that _you've_ decided are wrong – _that's_ something completely different. You didn't speak to me for days when I turned down Healer Patil. You have something negative to say about most _everyone_, and it doesn't make me want to tell you anything that would give you ammunition. I get judged from some of my family. They think I'm too liberal and not traditional enough; they have expectations of me that sometimes aren't reasonable. I don't need the same judgment from my friend."

"I'm not the sort that'll tell you what you want to hear. Perhaps Rose—"

"Rose doesn't even like the fact that I'm _friends_ with you," he bluntly confessed. That particular truth wouldn't ease the tension between them, but it was something she needed to know. "She's never understood why I made friends with the most self-righteous, know-it-all in our Year." Henrietta's entire body tensed; her face unreadable, but composed. "I've always known how she felt, but it wasn't because she expressed that directly to me. She's never used our arguments or your flaws as a reason for why I should cut you out of my life. She understands that I had my reasons for befriending you – reasons I've _never_ told her – and she respects it, regardless of how she feels."

He let that hang in the air before he finished.

"You might not like her much, but perhaps you should take a page from her book."

He knew Henrietta wouldn't say anything further on the topic because he was right. She would revisit it a little later when she was ready. But she surprised him when she dryly asked, "Is that why you like her, then? Because she eases your burdens?"

"No," he replied, more than a bit frustrated with her tone. "The truth is that I don't have a clear answer. I just do."

She was not impressed. "That's _not_ an answer."

"It's the only answer I have," Scorpius retorted. "Rose is…important to me. And yes, things are a mess right now—in more ways than you know. Regardless, I've always…"

His brain gave off a warning because he felt he owed her no explanation of his feelings for Rose.

Especially if she was going to diminish them.

And yet, he told her anyway.

"It's the little things. You may think it's stupid, but I just like being in her presence, even if we're not doing anything except eating trifle at midnight, watching terrible films, and tweaking my dittany potion while she's reading, even though she disturbs me by laughing too loud. Rose is quick to tell me to stop being so particular and is always dragging me from my comfort zone."

Scorpius looked down at his feet then back at Henrietta.

"You say she's inconsiderate, but she refused to buy furniture made from animals because her logic was: _'If you don't eat them, why would you want to sit on them?'_ She knows that I want to travel and went through the time-consuming process of getting a Ministry-approved Portkey to Iceland for my birthday. She refused to let me go back to the hospital alone the night she got attacked because she didn't want me to Splinch myself."

Henrietta dropped her arms to her side.

"And," he continued after swallowing the lump in his throat. "I've realised she's more tuned in than I thought. More than willing to start _a war_ for me when I'm too busy trying to keep the peace."

She stepped closer to him.

"There's more, so much more that I don't even _think_ about. Little things, but she does them expecting nothing in return."

Henrietta was giving him the oddest look, but he ignored it, pressing on even though everything was telling him to _shut up._

"My choices are mine to make, and Rose encourages me in her own way, regardless of the outcome. I don't have to prove myself to her, because she doesn't _care_ about any of that shit. I don't have to worry about her acceptance, because I already have it. I don't have to _act_ a certain way around her, because she only wants me to be myself. I don't have to wonder if I'm good enough, because _I am_."

Scorpius found himself flushed, digging his short fingernails into the skin of the palm of his hands. He wasn't the sort that ranted or showed his hand, but in that moment, _he didn't care._

He trudged on, wielding his honesty; voice becoming stronger and more certain with each word that followed, "And so is she, regardless of what _you_ or anyone else thinks_._" Scorpius clenched his fists in the pocket of his work robes, "You've never liked her because she's not anything you can quantify and predict, measure and mould; and to be honest, _I_ wouldn't like her if she _was_."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not looking at him.

"And honestly, you don't _have_ to like her," he said earnestly, "But _I do_. And if you care about our friendship like you say – if you care about me _at all_ – you'll respect my decision and respect _her_…if only for the fact that I—" he searched for a fitting word, found none, but quickly settled on— "_Care_ about her."

Everything was silent and still in the moments that followed; the witch who had checked in their wands was gone. And that was probably a good thing. People gossiped too much for his liking; not to mention, he had just been painfully open with her in a public setting.

As the silence stretched on, his brain started repeating back what he'd said and his stomach started twisting. Finally, just when he was about to walk away, towards the room where they were scheduled to meet for class, Henrietta broke her silence.

"It doesn't sound like you just _care_ for her; it sounds like you _love_ her. If I—"

The doors to the ward opened and two Healers walked in, effectively ending their conversation.

"I heard you got to reattach a Splinched leg!" one of them exclaimed.

Scorpius rolled his eyes.

They were new.

Henrietta eyed him for several second before turning her attention to their peers. And as Scorpius listened to her recount the story to Mathers and Kincaid, Scorpius thought about what she'd said and ignored every subsequent look she'd sent in his direction long after she'd finished and they were settled in their seats in class.

In the romantic comedies Al loved to watch, there had always been a lightbulb moment when the protagonist realised the true depths of their feelings for their enemy—or rather, their unwitting love interest. The moment seemed violent and overwhelming, often blindsiding the character in the worst way. And that realisation had always been followed by fear of the unknown or rejection and maybe some unconvincing denial.

But for Scorpius, his moment of comprehension was different.

There was anxiety that accompanied such a shift, which was to be expected, but there was no denial whatsoever. Overall, it was a calm moment of acknowledgment and acceptance. He found himself no longer scared of destroying his friendship with Rose like he'd been that morning. Al had been right about more than one thing.

Oh, and maybe the pieces he'd put together that morning had been right, too.

How Scorpius felt wasn't something newly realised, but something he'd likely known all along but hadn't really considered. For weeks, Scorpius had struggled with defining and classifying his feelings for Rose. _Liking_ her and _caring_ _for_ her had never felt like the proper words to express the depths of his emotions. Truth be told, he felt stupid because the right word had been in his vocabulary all along.

Love.

* * *

The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity and Scorpius found himself paying such close attention in class, he scarcely noticed the passing of time. The lesson that day was fascinating and had them discussing the benefits of cauterization, learning the different methods of how to stop a patient from bleeding, and hands-on experience with stitching cuts and wounds without magic.

It had been interesting to watch Henrietta, who had magically reattached a leg a few hours ago, fumble through threading a needle through a realistic-looking arm. One of the newbies had gotten sick, which had – ironically – prompted their release for a late lunch.

Because they had to clean and sanitise the area.

As if anyone could eat after that.

Henrietta had said as much before leaving to check up on the teenaged splinchers, leaving him alone for lunch in the tea room with Al and Rose. Which was fine. He would likely be early as he told Al to meet him at two-thirty, but a little peace and quiet was hard to come by during the day.

It was usually empty at that time of day, which he preferred. Scorpius was used to people staring at them. That was common, given who they were and the persistent rumours about him and Rose that were still dying down. But Scorpius was tired of random witches leering at Al, everyone pointing at him and Rose while whispering about rumours, or random people passing by just to ask Rose intrusive – and possibly triggering – questions.

So quiet was good.

But when he arrived, only Al was waiting for him at a table just big enough for the two of them to spread their lunches out, bobbing his head to the music coming from the wireless. He had two cartons of food and the entire room smelled like the Asian restaurant down the street from their flat that always made sure to swap their utensils whenever he came in with Al.

Suddenly, he found himself hungry.

He crossed the room, joining Al at the table in the back corner.

"You're early. Been waiting long?"

"No, I was talking to Grathers and Simpson. They told me that Unspeakables started showing up to do guard duty and they just got new orders to report back to the Ministry tomorrow morning."

"Your dad's been busy."

"That's putting it lightly." Al snorted. "He told me that he would leave me until last, as to not show favouritism, but I know he means for me to keep an eye out on things here for as long as possible while Aunt Hermione pulls a few more investigators – that aren't Cauldwell – to help."

"How long before all the Aurors are reassigned?"

"By early May, or sooner, if we catch the person stabbing patients."

"That's a long time."

"I said the same thing, but my dad very well can't immediately pull everyone out. He wants to, because he's angry about what happened, but he's got to think about safety measure as well. The Minister doesn't like that my dad is taking the Aurors out of St. Mungo's before they've made an arrest, nor does he like the fact that Unspeakables will be taking over. Unspeakables don't know anything about apprehending someone that strong, but after Aunt Hermione told him what happened with Rose, he only asked that they not make the transition even more of an interdepartmental shit show than it already is."

Scorpius frowned. "But no consequences for Barracus' actions?"

Al didn't like it, that much he could tell. "None, but he has no control over The Department of Mysteries or the old coot that runs it." He checked each of the cartons to make sure their orders were correct. "It's a dangerous move to pull the Aurors because it's been so quiet lately, but I've never seen my dad as angry as he was when your dad came in and told him that they'd dragged her off."

"I doubt my dad said those words."

"He actually said, _'We've got a problem, Potter. Where's Granger?'_ Because _everyone_ looks for Aunt Hermione when things go topside. Then, all hell broke loose and since Teddy's off to his assignment in Paris, my dad had James go talk to some of the Aurors that had witnessed it. And I had to barge in on Aunt Hermione's lunch meeting with the South African Minister of Magic. _That_ was awkward." He handed Scorpius a container chuckling. "Vegetable lo mein with extra vegetables for you." He then picked up his chopsticks with maniacal glee. "Orange chicken for me."

"Cheers."

And they started eating.

It wasn't until Al's initial feeding frenzy cooled down that he casually asked, "Where's Rose?"

"Uncle Ron interrupted our Cousin's Day early on by inviting us to test out a new batch of products at the joke shop. So much fun," Al grinned and stuffed his face with more orange chicken. He at least waited until he finished chewing to speak again. That time. "After, he wanted to take Rose to have lunch with Aunt Hermione and invited me along, but I told them I was having lunch with you…and here I am."

Nodding, he continued to make quick work of his food while Al chattered on about the new products. And Scorpius took to silently counting every time he glanced at the door.

It was as if he were waiting for someone.

Scorpius smirked. "Looking for Jane?"

Al instantly blushed and shoved a mouthful of food into his mouth, mumbling. "Fo."

"What was that?" he pretended like he couldn't hear him.

"_Fo_." Albus glared at him hotly, face still red.

"Liar." Scorpius teased him because he could. Not to mention, he was an easy target. "But if you were looking for someone – maybe _Jane_ – she's making origami for the patients in the children's ward. That is, if you want to go surprise her," he shrugged. "I won't be mad."

He thought about it while chewing and swallowing his food. Then he started rubbing the back of his head as he weighed out his options before coming to a decision. He almost even stood up, but in the end, decided against it. "I don't want to be weird."

"Too late for that."

"Oi!" Albus swatted at Scorpius, who laughed. "You're just disappointed that Rose isn't here."

He casually tilted his head from side to side, refusing to voice the fact that Al was right, but he probably knew it anyway. His conversation with Henrietta had left Scorpius feeling strange and resolved and wanting to be around Rose, all at the same time. Just for a bit. He wanted to argue with her about pointless topics as some sort of bizarre confirmation that things were going to be fine.

Albus grinned and kicked him under the table because – wise words aside – he sometimes digressed back to Second Year as far as maturity was concerned. The kick made Scorpius jump, almost drop his chopsticks and spill Al's water. Then he retaliated, which effectively spilled the contents of Al's cup and started a foot war that ended with them laughing like they were back at Hogwarts and not responsible adults.

"You seem a lot better than you were this morning," Al commented after cleaning the water off the table with a wave of his wand.

"I am."

There was a calm in him that he couldn't explain, a lightness, but Scorpius figured that the talk and the paradigm shift earlier had a lot to do with that.

"…tried to talk to Rose this morning after you left."

Scorpius tried to pretend like he'd been listening, but failed. "I wasn't listening."

"I know," Albus shrugged with a smile, stealing a mushroom off his plate. "I only mentioned our conversation to bring you back out of your head. It worked."

He didn't stop Al from stealing a piece of zucchini, because Al needed vegetables in his life, but still rolled his eyes with resignation. "Since you mentioned it, what did you two talk about?"

Al was still helping himself to Scorpius' food so it took longer for him to answer, "I asked her if there was something wrong because she was quieter than usual. She drank her coffee black and even though she hated it, she refused to put sugar in it."

Now, he was intrigued. "And she said?"

His best friend shrugged, running a hand through his hair multiple times, making it worse. "I—well, she clammed up and then glared at me before proceeding to argue about who would win a hand-to-hand combat: an astronaut or a caveman." Al facepalmed, then dragged his hand down, looking suddenly weary. "I barely made it out of there without getting punched."

Scorpius chuckled.

So, normal then.

But not really.

"I don't think she's ready to talk," Albus stated the obvious. "Not to me anyway."

After making a noncommittal noise, he gathered their trash and sent it to the closest receptacle with a wave of his wand. "I could have told you that."

His best friend just grunted. "She seemed distracted all day, and everyone noticed. Uncle Ron kept giving me looks like _I'm_ supposed to know what's going on in her head. Uncle George looked almost worried."

Scorpius cringed.

"Yeah, that bad," Albus continued, "It was to the point where if a rain cloud formed over her head, I would probably look at it and think _'that fits'_. Whatever is going on in that head of hers, it's all storm and wonder. Probably terrifying. I think that had a lot to do with why Uncle Ron took her to have lunch with Aunt Hermione; they've been getting along better these days. It's—"

Something caught Al's attention behind Scorpius.

They had company.

Albus had always been nice, even with people he didn't care for; not truly showing his temper unless someone messed with his family or Scorpius. But there was something about their visitor that had caused his face to go perfectly blank; one hand closed on the table's edge while the other gripped his water cup with a little too much force.

His hackles were raised like his hair; ready to investigate or attack.

"Hello, _Creepy_," he muttered loud enough for Scorpius to hear.

Al's behaviour struck Scorpius as odd—so much that he went against every one of their previous unspoken _'don't look, don't look, don't look'_ agreements and did just that.

Then he understood.

The man was tall and thin, and it was his presence that captured Scorpius' immediate attention. He _filled_ the doorway; commanding their attention and demanding their immediate respect. He seemed like the sort of man that believed that he was the smartest person in every room he entered, and most times was correct in that assumption.

He looked as old as his grandfather with contrasting black eyebrows and white hair, which had been slicked back like a character in an all the old black-and-white films he'd watched with Rose's family. His grandfather often dressed in a similar fashion, but he wore casual clothes in an attempt to make himself look more approachable. The man in the doorway didn't care what impression he gave.

He was above it all.

Above them.

And that sort of behaviour only emerged after confirmation of superiority.

Which made Scorpius start paying attention, soaking in as much of the stranger as he could.

His face was thin and wrinkled, but he wasn't gaunt; his face expressionless. Scorpius was used to reading people, it was what made him a good Healer, but the man gave nothing while he stood there. Absolutely nothing. However, it wasn't his abrupt appearance or blank face that made him understand Al's immediate defensive stance. It wasn't the box in his hand or even the fact that he easily towered over him and Al, or his dark blue robes that screamed upper management.

It was his eyes.

He looked at Albus much like a hungry hawk looked at a mouse.

"Forgive my intrusion," he drawled in a deep and chilly voice that matched his aristocratic appearance. "But I am looking to speak with Albus Severus Potter, son of the Head of the Auror Department, Harry Potter."

_No one_ called him that except his mum, and only when he'd done something terribly wrong.

"You've found him," Albus gave a little opened-armed shrug with a head tilt as he leaned back in his seat, appearing relaxed. Scorpius knew better. "Everyone calls me Al or Albus…and you are?"

"My name is Claudius Barracus—" In a move that made him inwardly cringe, they both visibly tensed at the very mention of his name. The man looked pleased in a cryptic sort of way that made him sit straighter in his chair. "It appears that my name has travelled quickly through this hospital. All good things, I hope."

It took _everything_ in Scorpius not to react, but Al?

Not so much.

"What the bloody _f_—"

He kicked Al, _hard_, pulling one of Hermione's signature death glares. He had seen it enough times to pull it off perfectly. The last thing _any_ of them needed was for Al to lose his temper too early.

But he knew better than to expect Al not to lose it _at all_.

He was a Potter, after all.

Barracus wasn't simply there to introduce himself. He _wanted_ Albus to talk, and if he knew any better, his statement had been the first attempt at accomplishing that goal. Scorpius quickly calculated that their best bet was to keep a levelled head and a unified front.

Meanwhile, Al shot Scorpius a blistering glare, but wisely said nothing else; seemingly coming to his damn senses. At least part of them. His eyes briefly cut to Scorpius' wand on the table, then back.

_No_, he replied with a small shake of his head.

Terrible idea. Their next move had to be just as strategic as Barracus' first.

The man may have _looked_ old, but there was nothing feeble about his brain.

He had _planned_ everything.

He'd showed up at the _right_ time, in the _right_ place, and on the _right_ day to speak to Al…_on his day off. _How had he known Al would be there? Not only that, but he hadn't looked at Scorpius _once_. Not even when he was '_looking_' for Al, which meant he had known his target before he'd even appeared in the doorway.

Scorpius had more questions, but first, they needed to determine the purpose of his visit.

And they couldn't if Al started hexing first and asking questions seconds.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself," he moved his free arm in a flourishing motion. "I am Claudius Barracus. I am the _Head_ of the Department of Mysteries," he announced because with the Department of Mysteries now taking over the investigation—something they had only just found out that morning in a memo—his position held enough weight to mandate their respect. "If you have a moment, Albus Severus Potter, I would like to speak with you."

Al stood, face even; making sure his posture was straight so he looked as tall as he wasn't. He looked ridiculous, but whatever worked. Scorpius decided to remain seated, watching, waiting; preferring to maintain his current presence as a blip of nothing in the man's radar.

Scorpius thought Al would continue with an air of false politeness and retort with a barrage of sarcastic remarks; that perhaps Scorpius' warning looks had been received and understood, but he should have known better.

Hermione's looks had a shelf life of two minutes, after all.

Al's fists were balled up at his sides when he showed just the beginning of the temper Scorpius knew him to have, "You and I have _nothing_ to talk about."

_Shit._

Al was too far to kick. He was also _angry_.

Rightfully so.

Barracus fully entered the room; his presence even more unassailable with every step he took towards them. In a move that almost seemed strategic, he stopped almost ten paces away from their table; twelve from where Al stood ready to grab Scorpius' wand and damn every consequence to hell in the name of family. He sat the box that he had brought with him on an empty table right next to him, running a thin finger on the extravagant green bow on the top.

The box was white and was dressed like a present.

Scorpius had no idea who it was for; only that they wouldn't be accepting it.

The song on the wireless changed to an obnoxiously upbeat song comparing love to pumpkin juice that almost distracted Scorpius because it didn't fit the tense atmosphere of the room.

Barracus gestured to Albus in a move that seemed almost friendly. "_You_ are an Auror," and rested that same hand delicately on his chest, "And _I_ am overseeing the investigation into the murders occurring in this hospital. We are colleagues," Al snorted and rolled his eyes, causing Barracus, who didn't like the slight, to narrow his eyes; his voice lowering. "Furthermore, we have a mutual…acquaintance, if you will."

He scoffed. "After what you did to my cousin, you have some _nerve_ to call her an acquaintance."

Well, it wasn't something Scorpius would have said, despite being a true statement.

Actually, the fact that Al wasn't swearing was extremely impressive.

"I did not want to mention names, but alas…"

"If that's all you want, you may as well leave right now. You're wasting your time _and_ mine."

But Barracus wasn't taken aback by Al's hostility; he seemed to expect it. When he lowered his head, he seemed almost subdued; his posture deceptively tense…like he badly _wanted_ Al to believe him. "What transpired between my team and your cousin was a rather unfortunate event, I assure you. Please send Miss Weasley my sincerest apologies."

Years of etiquette classes told Scorpius that his actions, although intended to be perceived as sincere and apologetic, were not.

"I won't, you self-righteous _tosser_."

Ah, there it was, the name-calling. Right on time.

The sharp look Scorpius gave Al only made him fold his arms, standing taller. Defiant. And that marked the end of any influence he had on his best friend. They all were in deep shit now. He only hoped Al had enough sense not to flip the entire board in sheer spite before Scorpius could figure out what game Barracus was playing with him.

_Or_…

Maybe that was what he should do. End it. What better way to end a game than to kick the board across the room? Maybe then they would discover his purpose for approaching him, his reason for the game, and just what sort of goal he had hoped to accomplish.

People always revealed too much during disorder.

So, Scorpius sat back and let Al unleash chaos.

"I don't care about you, your title, _or_ the fact that you're head of a department; keep my cousin's name out of your mouth. Don't go near her, don't even _think_ about her!"

"And if I do not?"

"Then you're going to have a problem. Not with just me, but my entire family."

"It is already too late for that."

"Get _out_."

Barracus' mouth twitched at Al's acerbic tone; all sincerity of his previous words bleeding away, revealing an empty coldness that was likely the true Barracus. His tone was smooth like a snake and Albus was the prey that he had set his sights on. "You have inherited your father's temper, I see. I did not expect that."

"I've been told that my temper is like my mother's, which is _far_ worse."

Which was true.

And then Barracus did something he didn't expect: he sighed, sounding tired as he seemingly set aside his superiority. For a moment, Scorpius couldn't tell if he was being genuine and quietly scrambled to read his face and body language and came up with nothing that was glaringly false. Barracus pulled out a chair from the table where he'd placed the box and sat down, appearing to attempt and put them on even ground.

There it was: the act.

"I am only here to have a discussion with you," he said smoothly. It was scary how perfectly reasonable he sounded. "We have much to discuss, if you would hear me out."

"If I don't," Albus's voice was low with barely concealed rage. "Are you going to _detain_ me and drag me to the bottom of the Ministry for an interrogation?"

Annoyance fluttered across Barracus' face. "I can do that," he tilted his head to the side in a move that was obviously a challenge. "_If you like._"

"Do your worst."

Challenge accepted.

"I _would_, if only for the fact that I find you _especially_ aggravating," Barracus regarded him with the same biting look just a moment longer before it just melted away. "However, the chance that your father will burst in and cause an untold amount of property damage is too great for me to risk it."

From what Rose had told him, that was a true statement.

"_Besides_," he continued in a tone that made Scorpius' skin crawl. Al's too, because he shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a move that practically yelled his discomfort. "I would rather discuss my proposal with you in a productive manner."

Albus looked extremely sceptical. "A proposal?"

He cleared his throat, appearing as every bit of the professional he was. "I am hoping that we can form an alliance."

With perfect aim, Al shot the idea down. "No."

It was better than the _piss off_ Scorpius had expected.

Barracus smiled sharply. It was unsettling to the point where it made Scorpius wonder what was going on in the man's head. "Miss Weasley said the same thing, although she used more…crass language."

Al shrugged. "I can do the same, if you like."

He made a fist and looked as if he were about to slam it on the table top, but merely placed that hand on the table. He then flexed it once and returned it to his lap, resting one on top of top of the other. "Mr Potter, until it went missing, I spent my _entire_ career researching and experimenting with this dagger. It is _far_ more important than you can comprehend."

Eyebrow raised, he stuffed his hands into his pockets likely because he had nothing to do with them and Al could be fidgety when agitated. "What _exactly_ does this have to do with me?"

"Nothing at all, I assure you," he drawled, trying to appear less threatening than he was, but Al seemed to be catching on. He looked less angry and more unimpressed. How long that would last, Scorpius didn't know, but he had a feeling they were about to find out what the hell he wanted with him.

As predicted, Barracus looked Al right in the eyes – a move that meant to instil trust – and stated what Scorpius believed to be his purpose in approaching him: "I merely ask that you to convince your father to reconsider his decision and also convince Miss Weasley to accept my offer. The one that she and I previously discussed."

"_What offer?_"

Scorpius immediately realised two things:

One: Al had said the wrong thing.

Two: Barracus had kicked over his own game.

Something shifted in him right before their eyes, dramatic enough for Al to notice. He threw a _what the hell?_ look over his shoulder while Scorpius braced himself for the fallout.

He expected a lot of things to happen, but the absolute last thing he anticipated was for Barracus to lean forward and start laughing. It stared out gruff and low, but eventually became sharp and harrowing; a thing of nightmares that made Al intensely uncomfortable, judging from how rigid he'd gotten while the old man just laughed and laughed like he hadn't done it in years.

Even Al knew better than to say or move or do _anything_ until he stopped.

"I'm not sure what's so funny," and though Al tried to sound tough, he sounded more awkward than anything. "But _nothing_ is funny."

Barracus latched on to his discomfort, grinning coldly. "Your cousin continues to surprise me."

He sounded impressed.

Neither of them said a word because it looked as if he was about to share more.

"I have spent the last two days learning all about Miss Weasley: the courses she took at school and her scores—nothing less than an E, except one A in Muggle Studies during Third Year. _How unfortunate_." He tsked, shaking his head snobbishly. "She has a real talent for Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy. Not to mention, _eating_," he finished condescendingly.

Al's fists tightened while Scorpius meticulously turned in his chair; now able to watch Barracus freely. Without looking away, he picked up his wand and put it in the holster in his robes.

Where was Al's wand?

"Her aptitude tests were inconclusive, which likely means that she would be suited for any career path of her choosing. Her tests also show that she has a well-rounded and astute mind, testing off the charts in many disciplines – much like her mother. She has a talent for self-preservation and can be ambitious and competitive, but only when it suits her needs, which is why she was sorted in Slytherin."

Scorpius mentally calculated the probability that Al's wand was strapped to his ankle. _Very high._ Would he be able to draw first? Statistically, he should, but Al was angry and while most people slowed down when their emotions were heightened, Al did not.

It was what made him a good Auror.

Which that didn't bode well for his mission to stop Al from hexing the hell out of Barracus.

As a professional courtesy, of course.

After all, as a Healer, Scorpius would be required to help.

And that wasn't something he wanted to do.

Of course, Barracus wasn't done. "I have seen her OWL and NEWT scores—astounding for someone incapable of maintaining one position for more than a few months, but not exactly surprising. People with a mind like hers can rarely be confined in the box society puts us in." After a quick glance at the gift box, he touched the bow again and continued. "I have read her entire Ministry file in an attempt to figure her out, but I find that I am most intrigued by _her_. What can I offer to someone who wants _nothing_?"

Barracus stood, smoothing his robes in a move that spoke of his confidence. He moved closer in a move that showed his complete and utter arrogance. He was eight paces away with a clear line to Al.

"A favourite _cousin_ might know."

Scorpius changed his calculations.

"_Or not_," his voice cooled significantly; eyes locked on Al with such unwavering focus that he didn't notice Scorpius move his chair over and away from their table; effectively putting him in the same position as a referee, able to see every move each of them made. "Your confusion about the topic of my discussion with Miss Weasley has made it glaringly obvious that she has not confided in you about the extent of our encounter." He leered closer without even taking a step, asking darkly, "Now _why is that_?"

For that question, Al had no response. Instead, he shot back. "You've invaded her privacy and have the nerve to ask _me_ questions? You're _sick_."

"Actually, I am _quite_ well," he advanced another step towards Albus in a move that seemed almost threatening, daring him to show the temper he had inherited. "As for my intrusion into Miss Weasley's personal life, I like to be informed, and the information is…public knowledge. As is _your_ file, Albus Severus Potter." The corners of his mouth slowly turned upwards. "Would you like to know what _I_ know about _you_?"

Al flinched.

Even on paper, he was the Potter sibling most like their father; the physical comparisons had been unavoidable, as he was the only one of his siblings with his father's hair and eyes. Because of that, for years he had struggled to find his own identity. Al had gotten over it; had made peace with the comparisons, but Barracus seemed ready to open up an old wound simply because Al had aggravated him.

And because he _could_.

"Most of your information is accessible with the proper clearance."

_His clearance._

After all, he led the department that didn't work under the purview of the Ministry.

He could feel the anger radiating off of Albus as the countdown to him drawing his wand got close enough to zero for Scorpius to intervene before his best friend committed career suicide.

"You had _no right_ to look through my file _or_ hers." Al shot back furiously. "Just like you had _no right_ to take her against her will and hurt her. You may think you're some sort of god, but you're—"

"_Human_," Scorpius interjected, voice deadly calm; sounding every bit like his father on purpose.

Barracus tore his hawkish eyes off his initial prey, now eyeing him as if he were another thing on the menu. He met the older man's eyes almost challengingly because having Barracus' focus on him was a far more controllable variable than his attention being on Al.

"You're human," he told him with a quick adjustment to his glasses because he knew it made him appear even less threatening – because it was something he always did. "Try as we might, humans make mistakes. _You_ have made a mistake by coming here."

"Oh, have I?" Barracus drawled, smiling with too many teeth, ready to squash him like the bug he'd mistaken him for. Al was staring at him with wide eyes like he'd gone nutters, but Scorpius focused on the older man who was now glaring at him sharply. "Pray tell, what mistake have _I_ made?"

"You've done research, but it wasn't the _correct_ research." He made sure he sounded extra condescending when he said, "It's a common mistake."

Al choked back a laugh that Barracus barely noticed. Perfect.

He took an unconscious step in Scorpius' direction, movement akin to a jaguar. "Do you think that _I_ am common?"

Scorpius exhaled like Barracus was wasting his time – a sound his Aunt Daphne made whenever her pompous husband started talking about subjects that he knew nothing about.

"Hubris _is_ the downfall of man," and noted just how much the other man _hated_ his response.

With that, he stood casually, smoothing his own robes as he recalled everything he knew.

His next move was risky, exposing more than he ever wanted, but it had to be done. "Did you truly believe that coming here today would convince Albus to change her mind?"

Scorpius tilted his head to the side, eyeing the man.

"No, you're smarter than that. You looked through Rose's file and found facts and figures, but nothing usable; nothing that you could use to manipulate her into helping you."

Scorpius took his first step towards the man, keeping his eyes on his target.

"So, you went back to basics. Her family. And the _only_ member that you could reach with the lowest risk of an all-out interdepartmental war, is Al. Her favourite cousin."

He glanced at his watch.

"You came here with the intent to be amenable; to do damage control. You _need_ the Aurors to remain part of the investigation as your Unspeakables aren't trained to take on an overpowered wizard. You didn't expect his dad to start pulling them so quickly and figured that a pleasant chat with Harry Potter's son, who is known as the most even-tempered person in his family, would lead him to change his dad's mind. But you didn't anticipate that Albus here would be a protective cousin and a _complete_ tosser. No offence, Al."

"None taken!"

Scorpius allowed his eyes to slide over to Al briefly before focusing back on Barracus, who was outright glaring daggers at him. "It's a shame that your ego got the best of you…_again_. Not that _any_ of this is matters in the grand scheme of things. The Aurors are being pulled from the investigation and Rose _won't_ do what you want."

Barracus stepped closer, now just outside his circle but not entering. "And _what_ do I want?"

He stood firm under the man's intense glare. "The dagger back, at _any_ cost and by _any_ means necessary. It's an essential tool in the pursuit of your greater good."

Understanding bloomed on his face, and Scorpius had instantly been promoted from being an annoying blip of nothing to something worthy of his undivided attention. Barracus studied him, head angled to the side as he tried to learn and memorise him with critical eyes. And Scorpius let him, schooling his face to be the picture of stoic; as impassive as stone.

"Ah, so it appears Miss Weasley actually confided in someone…_in you_," his voice was so low he may as well have been speaking to himself. "How_ surprising_."

Al was no longer on his radar.

There was cold fascination in his expression that unnerved Scorpius more than he cared to admit, but he maintained his composure. Barracus gave a dark chuckle, stepping closer as if he were a new species he had only just discovered. "Who are _you_?"

"I'm just a Healer."

"That may be true," Barracus narrowed his eyes. "However, I sincerely doubt that you are _just_ a Healer. What is your name?"

And because he was wearing his nametag, he told the truth: "Scorpius Malfoy."

Al gave him a look, still more than willing to hex him for good measure, but Scorpius called him off with a hand gesture low at his side that Barracus didn't catch because he was too busy trying to catalogue him.

"Malfoy…" Barracus rolled the name around on his tongue until it dawned on him; a cold smile spreading across his face. "You are the best friend of Albus Severus Potter and also related to Miss Weasley's advocate, Draco Malfoy. The one that is not related to her by blood, but argued on her behalf. The one that caused the unfortunate…_interruption_ of my inquiry."

He was the only person that could describe Harry Potter blasting his way into an interrogation room as merely an interruption.

"He's my father."

"_Interesting_," Barracus intoned dryly. He didn't sound very intrigued, but he was. Scorpius could tell by the sudden spark in his empty eyes. "I do believe I now understand the reason behind his presence," he noted mildly.

"Actually, you don't understand _anything_." There was unintended heat behind his words that the older man latched onto immediately.

"Ah, there it is," Barracus flashed an icy smile that made Scorpius swallow involuntarily. "I see the resemblance; not just physically, but in temperament as well. The same repressed anger in his eyes are in _yours_, but you have such _poise_, such self-control, and it is entirely natural—unlike your father," he assessed, stepping into Scorpius' personal space without thought. "You would have made an excellent Unspeakable."

Wisely, he said nothing, depending on Barracus' ego to keep the conversation going.

And it didn't disappoint.

"I underestimated your father because I did not expect his presence nor did I recognise the true reach of the cease-fire between himself and Harry Potter, which proved to be a miscalculation."

Something that he visibly regretted.

"I will not do the same to you, Scorpius Malfoy." The way he said his name chilled him to the bone, but he didn't react. Al frowned almost instinctively. "I will not underestimate you." And that sounded like a threat more than a promise. "After all, _you_ are the blind spot in my research."

Albus started to take a quiet step back, but froze when Barracus started talking again.

"From what I can ascertain, you are an extremely logical person; so understated that I hardly noticed your presence. However, you have known my identity as it relates to Miss Weasley's interrogation since the moment I introduced myself. Yet you waited patiently for the perfect moment to make _me_ aware of _you_." He leaned in a bit; Scorpius tracking his every move with his eyes. "Which is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I'd rather you crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of, if I'm being honest."

"Oh, _I will_," he said with gritted teeth and determination. "Once I have my dagger back, and not a second before."

Scorpius tilted his head inquisitively, "Why is this dagger so important?"

Barracus didn't like the question. "It belongs to my department. It is an important tool that we have been searching for it since its disappearance almost thirty years ago. When we became aware of the investigation into mysterious deaths, we began an investigation of our own and confirmed that the dagger we have been looking for was involved. I have worked with it for my entire career, but there is so much left to discover about its power. The dagger is essential in our research into improving wizarding kind. _Everything_ we do is for the greater good."

He shook his head, not believing him. "That's the textbook answer. I'll rephrase my question: why is this dagger so important to _you_?"

Anger rolled across his features in one wave that was there and gone in just a flash. A second blink and Barracus was right back to being…well, _himself_. "You are not asking the correct question, Scorpius Malfoy."

"I believe I am," he challenged.

Barracus frowned deeply, but didn't answer his question. Instead, he shifted the conversation in another direction and he allowed it. "I would implore _you_ to reason with Miss Weasley about my offer. You and Albus Potter are free to assist her, if you like. Your presence in the investigation would be most beneficial."

"Why Rose?" Al asked.

The old man never turned his head to address the questioner, instead keeping his eyes locked on Scorpius. "I confess I am intrigued by the pattern of the person bound to the dagger. Normally, the dagger takes control of them and feeds indiscriminately, but not this time. The feedings are almost thoughtful, even though the timing is inconsistent – as if they cycle between losing and gaining control over the dagger. We believe they have been bound to the dagger for quite some time and we are in the process of expanding our investigation. Miss Weasley's survival was the exception to a very old rule and is proof that she is closer to this than she believes, which is a dangerous thing to be."

He filed away his words for later reflection, folding his arms across his chest. "Something else that's a dangerous thing to be?" Scorpius quirked a brow. "Your ally."

Barracus frowned. "She will not only be under the protection of the Department of Mysteries, but she will have access to classified research on the dagger and unlimited resources pertaining to her task. I assume that she will have the two of you to assist her. You two already work as a team, which will benefit Miss Weasley. I hardly see how dangerous that could be."

"_Your protection_?" Scorpius scoffed in disbelief. "You'd run her through with that dagger if it would accomplish your ultimate goal."

"That is…inaccurate."

He was lying, and not doing a good job of it.

Wisely, Scorpius kept his opinions to himself.

Besides, they had enough information and needed to have a long talk with Rose…_and_ her mother. "It appears that we've now arrived at an impasse, and while this conversation has been…_enlightening_," Scorpius gestured to the door politely; his tone anything but. "I think it's time for you to take your box and leave."

Barracus regarded him for a long moment before he said, "I _will_ leave." It sounded more like a pre-emptive decision than anything. He had work to do. "The box, however, will stay. It is a gift for Miss Weasley."

Scorpius felt his jaw twitch. Al looked at the box as if it contained a dark artefact.

"Please inform Miss Weasley that she has been officially cleared and will be allowed to return to work. I have _personally_ rushed the paperwork, and her return date will be Monday. I have bent the rules to hurry the process and wish that she would reconsider my proposal, but also consider my actions and my gift as a mere extension of my good will."

And he Disapparated with a small crack.

Gone just like that.

His presence and departure told Scorpius everything he needed to know about Barracus.

He would see him again.

And soon.

They postponed opening the box until long after Barracus was gone. With wands drawn, Scorpius waited as Al undid the ribbon and removed the top with two flicks of his wand.

They looked down together.

Inside were a pair of shoes.

They were scuffed a bit and a little dusty. Albus looked confused, but Scorpius recognised them instantly because Rose had complained so much about how uncomfortable they were the night before her Inquiry. She'd told him the next day about how they had been lost some time between her uncle bursting in the room and when they left, but there they were; disguised as an extension of his good will, when in fact, they were a reminder of her time in the basement of the Ministry – a reminder of _him_.

A threat.

Scorpius picked up the small box – with the shoes still inside – and threw it in the rubbish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was a lot to write...and imagine, this and last chapter were meant to be one. I'm crazy. These set of chapters were written to emphasize the growth of Scorpius, who usually sits back and observes and remains silent when he probably shouldn't. He's now an active participant in the things occurring around him and it's kinda been great to write. Also, love. Someone finally thought it. This and last chapter mark the beginning of conversations that needed to happen. Good and bad. Plot related, of course. And boy did I love bringing Barracus back into the fray, as he tried to backtrack from the mistake he made with Rose and failed. He really did not expect Scorpius. Or precious and angry!Al. And it was surprisingly easy to write the dialogue. Literally took me two hours. The rest of it took a few days. Now, I'm going back to work on the back half of the next chapter. As always, should say, things aren't always as they appear.
> 
> Also, I just wanna say thanks for all the love (and even the criticism). I appreciate it. This story is about Rose and Scorpius, not their parents, but I thought a lot about how I would characterize their parents long before I started writing. I would be writing a very different story if their parents hadn't healed, if Draco was still a bigoted asshole, and they all were acting like battle-scarred 17 yr olds; a story where the trio's feelings towards Draco would cloud everything and take away from the plot, and really make the relationship between their kids damn near impossible without drama. I decided not to write them as they were when they were teenagers at the end of DH, but as I imagine they would grow to be in their 40's - after years of peace, healing, and forward-thinking progress where they had to sort through their own anger and issues for the things that happened so that they could raise their kids in a non-toxic environment that allowed them to form their own opinions and relationships without the influence of history and bad blood. Some may not agree with the choices I've made, and really, I expected it. I often am told I'm too open-minded. It's cool not to agree with my interpretation... as this is just my creative outlet...and really, that's what fanfction is all about. 
> 
> Until next time,  
inadaze22


	17. Everything I Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So, pardon me while I burst into flames  
_  
_I've had enough of the world, and its people's mindless games  
_  
_So, pardon me while I burn, and rise above the flame_  
_Pardon me, pardon me. I'll never be the same_  
**Pardon Me – Incubus**

**Chapter Seventeen: Everything I Wanted**

Scorpius knocked seven times before the music stopped…and his heart started racing.

If he had to guess, it had a lot to do with his moment of acknowledgement. He hadn't thought on it any further, as his day imploded rather spectacularly; but now that he was metres from her, it was all he could think about. And he found himself feeling…uncharacteristically jittery and sick.

Was that normal?

That he didn't know because love was such a strange concept.

Thanks to some unknown algorithm that involved biological preferences, shared experiences, personality traits, and other little nuances; strangers would meet under a myriad of settings and build a relationship. Then one day, they would realise just how important that once-stranger had become to their life. How irreplaceable they were.

Absurd, but utterly human.

Love was a word that was so easy to use and abuse because it wasn't tangible. It had no specific definition. When someone spoke the word – even if they hadn't felt it for themselves – everyone understood the concept; if not always the depths of its meaning or the responsibilities that came along with it.

He couldn't say that he understood completely, but he _was_ still learning.

Everything that had happened in the last month or so had made him recognise that love wasn't _only_ a feeling. It was a conscious decision that a person made – _and continued to make_ – each day in order to create the experience that was often described as love. That experience wasn't always a spectacular event; it wasn't always fireworks. It could be quiet and familiar. The feeling of home; of belonging. It could be the feeling of rightness that came while standing on a multi-coloured welcome mat that said _Go Away_ in bold letters while listening to stomping feet on the other side of the door…

Which was thrown open abruptly, revealing a _very_ irritated Rose…who was wielding a trainer like a weapon.

And just like that, all the jittery feelings subsided.

"Why the—" When she saw him, her anger evaporated as she lowered her hand, casually dropping the trainer and kicking it off to the side. She gave an awkward cough. "I thought you were—well, a stranger."

He quirked a brow at her. "That you were going to threaten with a _trainer_?" Scorpius folded his arms across his chest; a smallest smirk gracing his features.

Rose stuck out her foot to smoothly nudge the trainer even further out of his sight – as if he were _ever_ going to let her live that one down. "Well, it was the first thing I put my hand on." She gave an unapologetic shrug. "Why didn't you use the Floo?"

"You blocked it."

She put a finger to her chin thoughtfully, "I _did_ do that, didn't I?"

"You did," he intoned dryly with a roll of his eyes. "Any particular reason why?"

Rose gave an awkward half-shrug, glancing at her mismatched socks while repeatedly squeezing her right arm with her left hand. Scorpius couldn't stop himself from staring at her, but quickly noticed that he'd mistaken her behaviour for awkwardness.

"_Plenty_," she tried to project an air of sarcasm, but it fell flat. "It'll take forever to list them all."

She looked oddly dishevelled in her mustard yellow Cannons jumper and black leggings. Her hair was in a single braid that was messier than usual. She was on edge, and hadn't improved much after lunch with her parents.

"Go on," he invited.

She flashed a tiny smile that Scorpius could tell was partially forced. Rose seemed glad to see him – in that she wasn't actively slamming the door in his face – but she wasn't extending him an invitation into her flat either. And she certainly wasn't taking him up on his offer.

"Rose?"

He tried to read her body language for cues, but didn't get far. Absently, he reached to tuck a small flyaway behind her ear; noticing the way she tracked the movement with her eyes and managing to stop himself just short of touching her. The look on her face was indecipherable – nothing uncommon for Rose, but he found himself wanting to know more than ever what was on her mind. Scorpius pressed his lips together, keeping his eyes on her as he rested the hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," she mumbled, shrugging his hand off. "I'm in a shit mood."

"Anything I can do?"

Stubborn to the bitter end, Rose replied, "No, it's nothing. Really." She fiddled with the end of her braid, then sighed. "My performance at lunch was not my best. My guess is that one – if not _both_ of my parents are going to turn up unannounced. That's why I blocked my Floo. I'm taking precautions against human interaction."

"Working smarter, not harder," he joked lightly to see if he could make her smile.

It worked.

Somewhat.

Awkwardly, Scorpius rubbed the back of his neck. "I can go back to my flat, if you want to be alone." He actually _couldn't_, because Al was gathering everyone as they spoke, but figured he would give her the option anyway.

"No," Rose replied a little quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears in a move that raised her sleeve and exposed more of her discoloured skin that still made him uncomfortable. It looked a little better, from what he could see. "I'm, uh, I'm glad you're here." Then she tilted her head inquisitively. "Why _are_ you here?"

He had a list of reasons and excuses that he could use to delay telling her about what had happened, but settled for honesty: "Because I want to be here."

"Oh." Judging from the way she looked up at him with such blankness, he could tell that she had _no idea_ how to process his statement. "Okay."

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Only if you agree to my only condition: _promise_ not to say _anything_ about the state of my flat."

Before agreeing, he attempted to look past her. From his vantage point, he had a small space where he could see into the sitting room and tried to use it wisely. In an attempt to thwart him, Rose jumped and waved her arms wildly, which made him try harder, move faster, but Rose was too quick.

Those duelling lessons had quickened her reaction time.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm going to see it anyway."

"Not until you promise!"

After Rose successfully blocked his way again, Scorpius went low, using his advantages in height and strength to lift her off the ground in one quick motion. She shrieked when he tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour; his arm wrapped around the back of her thighs so he wouldn't drop her. It was a move James had used once – _or ten times_ – to physically carry Rose away from a fight when they'd been at school. Like then, Rose swore, flailing her arms and legs while he laughed and grabbed her ankles with his free hand to stop her from kicking him.

"Not fair with the cheap move! I knew you should have been sorted Slytherin!"

"I almost was," he confessed for the first time since he'd initially told Al. "But the Sorting Hat gave me a choice between the two Houses." He used his foot first, then his elbow to shut the door shut behind him.

"_I knew it!_"

Scorpius continued laughing and she punched him in the back with more strength than he had expected, but it still didn't hurt. After struggling unsuccessfully, Rose sighed with resignation and hung there, arms dangling. "_Ugh_, go ahead before the blood rushes to my head."

Permission granted, he turned, walking past the entrance wall into the sitting room and—_nearly_ dropped Rose in shock.

"Don't. Say_._ _Anything_—"

Scorpius couldn't keep the awe out of his voice, "It's _clean_."

Rose sighed with resignation. "I hate it here."

It was the cleanest he had _ever_ seen her flat; everything rearranged in a way that opened up the room. Not to mention, it was _decorated_. Scorpius was used to her minimalistic furniture, but now there was a colourful vintage-looking kilim rug and throw pillows on the sofa; not to mention, the new lamps and the abstract paintings on the wall. Magical photos of her family and friends organised in frames.

None of that had been there last night.

After depositing a grouchy Rose on the sofa, Scorpius accepted her retaliatory shove with a laugh and as he nodded in the direction of the kentia palm. "Is that real?"

"Unfortunately." She was busy glaring at the budding but bare plant on the coffee table as if she were trying to set it on fire with her mind. "I'm _still_ trying to figure out why she gave me this potted twig."

"It's an orchid."

"_Oh_, well now her note with watering directions makes perfect sense."

Rose turned her glare on him when he chuckled, but Scorpius only grinned in response. She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile of her own.

Progress.

"This is _all_ Jane's fault. I gave her access to my flat this morning because she wanted to adjust its energy or something. How did she do this so fast? She had to work!"

"Do you really not like it?"

"It irritates me that I _do_," she scrunched her face up, then gestured to the plants. "But how the _hell_ am I supposed to keep these damn things alive?"

"Um…water?"

Rose punched him in the arm, which made him laugh again. It felt like they were getting back on track, and he relished in it. She reached for the book she'd been reading prior to his arrival. His eyebrow lifted at her reading choice: The Secret to Combating Anxiety Naturally. She caught him eyeing her book and shrugged, opening the book to where she'd left off. "Trying this new thing where I combat my issues and not ignore them. I have little else to do these days."

There was really no other way to say it. "You're set to return to work on Monday."

Rose froze, staring at him. "How did you find that out?"

"Barracus." She instantly went tense. "Al and I met him today." He amended his statement after glancing at his watch, "Not too long ago, actually." Her eyes went wide at that, and Scorpius wasn't sure how to respond.

He had previously been worried about her unconscious reaction to Barracus when she'd told him about her interrogation, but after having met the man, it made sense. Partially. True, he had been a threatening presence, but there was something about her body language that made him wonder what he was missing; what he was overlooking. Barracus had gotten too far under Rose's skin for their interaction to have gone exactly the way she'd described.

"What did he say?"

"He used his position to rush your return, and called it an apology."

"That _bastard_," she hissed.

He wouldn't argue that. "Aurors are slowly being replaced by Unspeakables, who will be tasked with security."

"That's not part of their duties." She would know. He had been with her Seventh Year when she'd quickly ruled out a career as an Unspeakable by quoting Spiderman.

_With great power comes great responsibility._

"They have no choice. Your uncle has made his mind up."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, but I'm also not sure if I'm saying that because I'd rather chew on sawdust than see that _wanker_ and his minions in the halls of St. Mungo's." Rubbing her arms almost out of reflex, she froze when she realised what she'd been doing and balled her hands into fists. "I know what you're thinking, and I'm _not_ afraid of him. I was afraid of the situation he put me in."

"Rose."

But she didn't hear him; looking far away, lost in her thoughts. Or perhaps memories.

"It was like he walked in that room knowing that being alone was a fear I'd never shared with anyone. _How_ did he know that?"

"Most humans have an inherent fear of being alone," he replied. "Call it an evolutionary quirk."

Rose looked dubious.

"Hear me out," Scorpius nudged her. "You come from a large family and it's never quiet. As much as you complain, I don't think you can imagine them not being there. It makes sense that being alone is something you fear. It's something _I_ fear, as well," he balanced his honesty with a shrug. Rose chewed on her fingernail as a distraction. He exhaled. "But neither of us are alone. You have family and—"

"You?"

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Yes, me."

"I'm—"

"Fine?" Scorpius finished, raising his eyebrow in an expression of his doubt. Rose avoided his gaze by looking away. "You can pretend with everyone else, but I won't let you pretend with me. You _know_ I won't. I never have."

Rose remained quiet for almost too long until she softly said, "You know," she gave a deep sigh that made her shoulders sag. "I've always struggled with outright lying to you."

"Then be honest."

Another moment of silence passed before she reluctantly spoke her mind. "There's loads more than Barracus and other stressors floating around in my head." She looked at him finally, and there it was – that same naked honesty he'd seen last night. "There's you." She set her jaw before voicing her frustration. "How can you come here and be so _normal_ after last night?"

"I told you I would wait until you're ready," he told her firmly. "And you're not."

Rose shut her eyes; as if the action made it easier for her to speak. "I just—I feel. I—I don't know how to act or what's normal. I don't know what's right or wrong given…what happened with us. I _hate_ it. I just—" Unable to finish, Rose opened her eyes, looking ready to pull at her own hair.

Despite her inability to express the thought, he comprehended enough to scoot over to the point where they were touching, pluck the book from her hand, and place it on the table out of reach. He ignored the strange looks Rose gave him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

In that moment, he noted the tension between them.

Her reluctance and self-consciousness.

But also, the way she didn't fight it or him.

After a while, Rose exhaled, releasing some of the strain she'd been carrying since he'd arrived and angling herself so she could comfortably rest her head on his shoulder; all while tentatively wrapping an arm around him, gripping his robes. And Scorpius held on, giving the physical reassurance she couldn't express that she wanted.

The same thing he hadn't known he needed as well.

Scorpius absently ran his hand up and down her arm, if only to stop himself from doing more. Or something stupid like snog her blind. It seemed that now that he was in her presence, he found himself having to repeatedly shut the idea down in the interest of not being reckless.

Rose was so quiet that he thought she had dropped off to sleep, but then she mumbled, "What did Barracus want?"

"Something he didn't get."

"_Good_."

Slowly, he started from the beginning, telling her everything about their encounter with him – well, except the shoes. She didn't need to know that. Especially since, during his retelling, he'd picked up on how Rose seemed to cycle between troubled and angry and every conceivable emotion between.

When he finished, Scorpius cupped her cheek with his free hand, angling her head up so he could look into her eyes; a move that seemed to pull her from whatever was agitating her. Rose took her time searching his face; her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to solve a puzzle.

It was that familiar feeling again; one where the world bled away, fading until there was nothing left except them. Rose tensed as his other hand moved from her shoulder, down her back, then a bit lower, running into strip of skin where her jumper stopped and her leggings began. But then her facial features softened into a familiar look that was only notable in his inability to read it.

Then she retreated to the other end of the sofa. "Sorry."

He rubbed the back of his head as he sat up straighter, trying to maintain his air of complete composure. "Don't," At the confused look she gave him, Scorpius clarified his statement. "If anyone should apologise, it should be me." When her face changed to interrogative, he filled her in: "Al went to get your parents to bring them here so we can all talk. With you cleared to return, I thought—"

"We need to talk about the fact that Barracus is going to be a fixture in my life," she sighed and it sounded tired. "After my Inquiry, my mum started asking for the memory." Rose made a face and looked down at her hands. "I fared _far_ better than expected: four times in two days, I told her no, but I caved today at lunch in a moment of weakness."

She sounded worried, which prompted him to ask, "What is she going to see?"

Instead of answering, Rose said. "I'll go open my Floo," she looked at him. "You should probably change. I think I have some of Al's clothes here. They're on the chair in my room."

Not wanting to press his luck, he nodded and left. However, before he turned the corner towards her room, Scorpius glanced back at Rose, taking notice of the stress that seemed to radiate from her in near-visible waves. It filled the space and suffocated whatever energy Jane had tried to achieve.

They would have to fix that before she turned up with the Tibetan Bowls again.

* * *

The magical photographs in her room caught his attention. Not the old, but the new.

There was one of Al, Jane and Quincy taken the day before Scorpius' birthday – Al had on his flower crown. Then, there were a recent series of four photos taken of Jane and Rose. They were dressed in matching onesies and the former was grinning so brightly in each picture that he could hardly see her eyes. Rose went from annoyed in the first photo, fake smiling in the second, laughing at what Jane had said by the third, and letting Jane hug her in the last while looking from Jane to the camera as she flashed a genuine smile.

And there was one of him that she hadn't put up before.

It was taken after he'd changed his hair Sixth Year. He'd been engrossed in a book when Al had come into the frame and ruffled his hair in a move that knocked his glasses askance. For some reason, rather than expressing any sort of irritation, Scorpius had looked right at the camera, right at Rose, and smiled.

No, _grinned_.

When Rose had been on her six-month quest to be a world-famous photographer that year, she'd told him that photographs were always taken with a purpose: to remember things, for the benefit of someone else, and to record something notable. And Scorpius found himself wondering what had made that photograph notable enough for her put it on her bedside table.

Or what had made her take it in the first place.

Scorpius filed the thought away for later contemplation and found the clothes, quickly changing into Al's dark green shirt and denims, forgoing his shoes in favour of socks. After folding his work robes and placing them on her bed to retrieve later, he ventured out the bedroom, but stopped when he heard voices coming from the main area.

One of them sounded like Lily and she was already in a snit.

"It's not like you're doing anything, Rose."

To his surprise, Rose sounded oddly patient. "My parents are coming through." Or maybe tired. He couldn't distinguish the difference between just by voice alone. "I'm not sure what you want to talk about, but—"

"I want to talk about Scorpius."

That got his attention, but he wasn't surprised. No matter how direct he'd been, Lily would not yield. He'd given her lenience as Al's sister, but had been resolved in his position to be firm with each and every one of his denials until she finally decided to concede.

He had Al's support.

"What about him?" Rose sounded bewildered. "If you're looking for him, he's in—"

"I'm not," Lily cut her off brusquely. "I wanted to talk to _you_."

"Um…okay?"

"Have you _actually_ talked to him about the benefits of dating me?" Rose said nothing, which prompted her cousin to prattle on, "We've got _so_ much potential. We'd be an amazing couple. I just _know_ it. I'm a Leo and he's a Pisces. We're both young, successful, and fit. We're both from prominent wizarding families, which means would generate a lot of press—_far_ more than you two did when you broke his nose."

"I didn't break his nose to make the papers." There was a moment of awkward silence before Rose suddenly barked out a short, dry laugh that sounded more restrained than cheery. "You're having me on, right?" she asked incredulously. "You came through to ask me _that_?"

"_Yes_," she replied, sounding every bit as petulant as Lily could be.

Rose sighed like she was being forced to explain something obvious. "Scorpius _hates_ the press, but he'll keep up that _stupid_ media smile of his because he's painfully self-aware and knows that anything he does, good or bad, will reflect on his family. Attention of any kind is not something he'll see as a positive. Second, I'm—" she sounded almost flat. "I'd rather _not_ today, Lily. I'm not having the best day, or _month_, really."

Her cousin only snorted sarcastically in response.

"I already know you don't give a shit about that." Rose paused. "However, just so we're clear. I never agreed to help you win Scorpius over. It's a pointless mission."

"Some cousin you are," Lily sounded bitter. And Scorpius wondered what had given her the right to sound that way. Because there was _something_. There was always a purpose behind each of Lily's actions. "You're _supposed_ to help me."

Rose took a deep, cleansing breath, that she audibly exhaled. "I'm trying to do this thing where I don't use sarcasm as a defence mechanism. Jane suggested it," she chucked dryly, "I'll be sure to tell her that it's not working because I can't think of a _single_ thing to say that _isn't_ sarcastic. The only thing I _can_ say is that you'd be better off going to Al for data on Scorpius. As well as I know him, Al knows him better. Bromance for the _ages_."

Lily made a small noise. "Before, he just alluded to it, but today Al outright said that Scorpius doesn't fancy me." It didn't seem to bother her one bit. Not surprising. "So, I'm asking you."

"I'm _not_ in the mood for this," Usually, Rose was far more vocal in expressing her annoyance with Lily – with far more colourful language – but right then, she sounded…flat. "I'm _trying_ to be patient. You're _testing_ it."

"I don't understand why you're not in the mood," she dismissed her flippantly. "It's not like you've done anything all day except sit at home and stuff your face with carbs." He heard Rose's disbelieving mutterings behind Lily's comment, but the latter continued on, unbothered. "At this point, are you ever going to be cleared to go back to work?"

"I—"

"The entire situation is a right mess." For one second, Scorpius thought that she would empathise with Rose, but was quickly proven wrong. "In my opinion, had you cooperated, you wouldn't be bruised and my dad wouldn't have had to rescue you. It's really your own fault, Rose, and now my dad is under a lot of pressure at work because of what he did for you."

"What he did for me," Rose repeated in that hollow tone he was rapidly growing to hate.

"Yes. _For you_," she forged ahead without heeding all the non-verbal warning Rose had been giving. "You've _really_ mucked this one up, as per usual, and here you are playing the victim."

There was a spark in her next words that hadn't been there previously. "I'm _not_ a victim."

"No, you're not," Lily agreed frivolously. "You've caused your own issues."

From there, silence stretched on between them. Scorpius took to listening to the ticking clock on the wall, counting the seconds. And the higher his count went, the more uneasy he became; their silence reminding him more and more of an elastic band – too tense, too volatile, and too ready to snap back and hurt everyone. But then Rose broke it, and there was no mistaking her tone.

The spark had caught; the fire small, but already crackling.

"Are you _trying_ to start a fight?"

Which was something Scorpius had been wondering himself. Lily had _purposefully _come to her flat unannounced andbacked her cousin into the first corner she could…knowing perfectly well that Rose had always been best known for fighting her way out of them.

"_Yes_."

"Just making sure," her voice went low and hard, "Get on with it then."

Surprisingly, Lily said nothing immediately and the previous silence returning with a vengeance; a new wave of uneasiness that he felt from his spot behind the wall. But just when he was about to check to see if Rose had hit her with a silencing charm – or worse,_ her fist_ – Scorpius heard Lily's low and derisive chuckle.

"_You're_ my problem, Rose," she sounded like she was voicing something she'd been holding on to for years. "All I've _ever_ wanted was for us to be close. For us to be like you and Al are, but all you do is push me away. I try _so_ hard, but it's impossible. You've _always_ been impossible. I do so much for you, but you fight me every chance you get."

"You do so much for me," Rose repeated coldly.

"_I do_," Lily sounded so self-righteous that had he not known her, he would have been convinced that Rose was not being reasonable. "I always help you stay in style. I give you clothes to wear when we go out. I made sure you looked nice at the gala—"

Leave it to Lily to go for the superficial.

"Those were my mum's robes," Rose retorted, "I'm not a _child_. I know how to dress myself."

"Do you now?" And it was said in such a condescending way that it made Scorpius cringe. "I have _so_ much evidence that proves otherwise."

Scorpius was used to their snide remarks, verbal jabs and comebacks that were casually thrown about. But there was something particularly hostile in their exchange today. Something dark and ugly.

"_Also_," Lily pressed on, oblivious to the tension that even _he_ could feel from the other side of the wall. "I helped you lose ten pounds since I started monitoring your carb intake. You should thank me."

"You were _supposed_ to help with my ankle. That's it."

"Well, now that you weigh less, its less of a strain on your ankle. So, I helped anyway."

Rose let out a choked off snort of disbelief. "Wow, I sometimes forget how vapid you are."

"Is that so?" Lily rhetorical question sounded more like a challenge. "I have _never_ forgotten how much I _hated_ being in your shadow, Rose. I found myself wondering what it is about you that makes you so damn special to Scorpius, but I've realised the answer: _nothing_."

That humourless chuckle of hers returned. "So, you're _absolutely _certain about this?"

"Yes, I am." There was such animosity in Lily's tone that it made him curious about the source. She sounded like she had every right to fight; like she had been wronged and was standing up for herself.

"I figured that we were going to repress this until we were old and grey," her words were light, but her tone was strained. "But perhaps this way is better. I've kept my mouth shut for _years_ in some _deluded_ attempt at keeping the peace. For the good of our family. But you want to fight? _Fine_, I—"

"I'm _angry_ at you."

"Are you now?" Rose drawled. "I hadn't _noticed_…given the fact that you've dramatically barged in _unannounced_ and _uninvited_."

"I'm not being dramatic!" she shouted – well, _dramatically_. It took Scorpius aback at how sharp and shrilled her voice had gone, causing him to wince for the second time. "You have the _nerve_ to call me dramatic, especially since Scorpius—"

"That's the _third_ time you've mentioned him." Rose pointed out. "Which makes me think that you're not here to fight about our relationship – or lack thereof. It's not like you to give a damn about me when it doesn't suit you."

"_Excuse_ you—"

Scorpius could hear her move – likely towards Lily and the brewing fight, rather than away.

"Face it, Lily. You only come around when you want something, when I can do something that you want, _or_ when you want to put me down to feel better about yourself. _Also_, you've made it abundantly clear that Scorpius is the reason you've come," she pressed on, ignoring the offended noises coming from her younger cousin. He couldn't tell if she sounded angry or hurt or somewhere in between when she said, "So _get on_ with it, Lily. Don't waste my time with your character analysis of me."

"_Fine_," she ground out angrily. "You've known for _months_ that I've got feelings for him—"

"They aren't mutual," Rose shot back, exasperated. "You've said it yourself. What does that have to do with anything?" Her voice sounded like she was struggling to control her temper. "Are you absolutely certain that you want to fight? I've giving you an out. Last chance." And, well, Lily must have given her a look because all he heard next was her very cold response: "_Okay_."

It was the second time that day he'd heard that tone from someone in their family. Shit.

Scorpius stepped out from behind the wall, prepared to break it up and send Lily on, but then he locked eyes with Rose, as Lily's back was to him. The look on her face was deadly calm, even if her body language told him otherwise – a trait she shared with Al. Her cheeks were flushed with barely restrained indignation.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him off with a quick flick of her wrist. Rose could handle herself – that much he had always known – but Lily's verbal declaration of war was the last thing she needed.

_However, _because he knew how to pick his battles – and it seemed they had more to fight about than just him – Scorpius gave her the space she'd requested, stepping back behind the wall.

"Go on, Lily."

And she went. "You and Al have repeatedly told me that Scorpius only sees me as Al's sister." Lily said angrily. "But _how_ can he see me as more when _you're_ there?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your relationship with him isn't normal," she retorted bluntly.

"I'm _bloody_—" Rose caught herself, then exhaled. "Scorpius is my best mate."

"Best mate?" Lily snorted inelegantly, not believing what her cousin was saying. "No, _he isn't_. You've _always_ been closer than that. You both _literally_ forget about everyone else when you're talking; you're _too_ familiar with each other. You don't even know how to ballroom dance and you almost completed a Waltz by just following his lead. It's _not_ normal. You don't even have to _speak_, and its different from his and Al's language."

Her level of observation wasn't a surprise. Her talent for focusing so intensely on a goal until she accomplished it would be impossible if she weren't the least bit perceptive. Scorpius had taken to being careful in her presence when she'd noticed that he had feelings for someone that wasn't her, but now he understood the error he'd made in assuming that she would forget.

Lily never forgot anything.

And while he'd been cautious, she had been trying to solve the mystery.

"Today, I asked Al about you and Scorpius, but he said it was none of my business."

"You should listen to him."

_That_ was her response to everything Lily had said?

Scorpius would have laughed had he not been on edge.

Well, her lack of an answer only upset her cousin more. "_Maybe_ you should stop _lying_ to me."

Rose's irritation with the topic of conversation peaked. "I'm _not_ lying, Lily."

"You aren't? _Really_?" she deadpanned. "How about this," she hissed, voice dropping as her self-righteous anger made its presence known. "I _saw_ you and him last night."

All the air seemed to leave the entire flat.

To Rose's credit, she said nothing. Not a word. Not a gasp. No reaction…_at all_. Scorpius kept quiet – more out of not really giving a damn about Lily catching him, than anything like shame. He wasn't regretful or embarrassed. Mrs. Weasley _had_ said that she'd sent her out there to look for them, but hadn't specified _when_. They probably should have anticipated that Lily had seen them, but had been _more than a little_ preoccupied at the time.

Besides, they had no reason to hide.

He peeked out from behind the corner, catching Rose's attention, noting that her blush had spread to her neck and ears. She locked eyes with him and he gave her a look, offering his assistance, but she rubbed the back of her neck and responded to her cousin, looking just as embarrassed as she sounded: "Umm…what part did you see?"

"You were _snogging_ him on Nan's blanket!" Lily yelled, waving her arms wildly. "What the hell does it matter what part I saw!"

Which was a fair point.

She angrily swept her straight red hair over her shoulder, then balled her fists at her sides as if she were trying to compose herself after such an outburst. "How long?"

Rose's face scrunched in confusion. "How long what?"

Then, she pointedly glared at him. The direction had been clear. Scorpius stepped out of sight.

Lily sounded ready to throttle her cousin; more than willing to take the punishment that would fit the crime. "How long have you and Scorpius been—"

"We're mates, Lily," she told her matter-of-factly, "I don't know how many times I have to—"

"Oh, that's _bullshit_!" she shouted, voice ripe with validation for her emotional outburst. "Mates don't snog, Rose. Snogging him literally means the end of any kind of platonic notions you may have." Her voice lowered. "_Everyone_ said the rumours weren't true, but it's _obvious_—"

"You were _there_ when I broke his nose. You _know_ that wasn't a snog. It was an accident."

"Do you even _care about_ him?" Lily asked abruptly, sounding indignant.

"_Of course_," she said automatically, scoffing as if her cousin were being ridiculous for even asking. "He's my favourite person. He's my best—"

"If you say that one more time, I'll _scream_," she snapped, then took several breaths to calm down before continuing as if she were talking to an errant child. "I'll ask this one more time: do you like him? Fancy him? Are you _attracted_ to him? _Any_ of the above? Because what I saw—"

"I don't want to talk about what you saw," Rose lowered her voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but the _only_ person who deserves—"

"_I_ deserve an explanation!"

"_No, _you don't!" she interjected quickly and the two fell into another silence. But that didn't last long before Rose said, "He's not yours. He doesn't belong to anyone. Bloody hell, I'm trying to figure out if you're just _that_ daft or _that_ stubborn? I—" her words died and she exhaled. "I didn't force him to snog me. I didn't ask for it to happen."

"But you didn't stop him either."

"No, I didn't," she replied carefully. "But if you're angry at me, then you need to be angry at him."

Also, a good point, but Scorpius knew Lily would never confront him directly.

"_He's_ not my cousin!" Lily replied, sounding angrier, if that was at all possible. "You _lied_ to me about your relationship with Scorpius and let me flirt with him, only for him to—"

"I _never_ lied to you, Lily. We. Are. _Friends_. What you saw doesn't change _anything_."

It was oddly nice, in such an incredibly tense moment, to have that sort of affirmation.

"Also, I never _let_ you do anything," Rose told her abruptly. "You do whatever you want, _say_ whatever you want, and it doesn't matter what _anyone_ thinks. You _always_ think that you can change someone's mind, Lily. You _always_ think you can turn a _no_ into a _yes_. People don't work like that. Scorpius most _definitely_ doesn't work like that – not that you know how he works _at all_."

And then, she lowered her voice, talking to her through gritted teeth.

"Oh, and _last_. Don't act like we're loyal to each other. Don't act like we're so close. We're _not_."

"Whose fault is _that_?"

"Both of us are to blame. I can't force us to get on. To be fair, I've never tried." Rose sounded abrupt; not at all upset, but rather accepting of the truth. "It's the same idea that you can _try_ all you want, but you won't be able to change how Scorpius sees you. That's not how that works."

"Oh, and _you_ know how that works?" she asked, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Tell me, when have you _ever_ had a meaningful relationship with anyone of the opposite sex?"

"W-well," Rose stumbled on the word. "Actually," she made a small _hmph _noise before she answered, sounding astonished by what she was about to blurt out, but unable to stop herself from actually saying it: "That's really a stupid question. I could say Quincy, but the best answer to your question is Scorpius."

He probably should have expected that, but hadn't. He likely looked as surprised as she sounded, but Scorpius managed to keep himself perfectly still and quiet even as his mind ran on full speed, full of questions and partial answers. It wasn't like Rose to say something so honest, especially around Lily because nothing was sacred or safe around her.

But she had.

And much to his continued shock, Rose wasn't finished. "I don't care what you think about us. He's close because I want him there," she took a shaky breath and the verbal retch continued unchecked, "And even though I'm _far_ more trouble than I'm worth, he's there. Who are _you_ to question _our_ relationship? It is – and will always be – _none_ of your damn business."

"None of my—" Lily almost growled in anger. "You can tell me what you want; tell me not to force you to define your relationship, but I _saw_ you both out there. You can't tell me that after snogging him like you were, you honestly think that you're _just_ mates! Admit it, Rose! Be honest with me, for once in your—"

"I _am_ being honest!"

"No, you're not!" she shouted back. "And if you can lie to _me_ like that, you—"

"_Why_ does it matter?" Rose yelled at her cousin. "_Why_ does it matter how I feel?"

"Because you _obviously_ don't give a damn about him or his feelings!"

"_What_ feelings?" Rose asked, angry and bewildered.

"_What feelings?_" Lily repeated incredulously. "Are you _having a laugh _right now? You can't _possibly_ be this stupid! You _can't_ be!" She made a noise that made her sound as if she were moments from throttling her cousin. "You're either a _complete_ idiot or you don't give a damn about him. I assume—"

"Stop making assumptions!"

"It's a _simple_ question, Rose! Do you feel _anything_ for him?"

"I don't even know _what_ I'm supposed to feel!"

The blurted declaration echoed in his head on repeat as the dreaded silence returned for another round. He could hear one of them pacing, but didn't dare move. Nor could he. The confirmation of his correct hypothesis had made his heart lurch in his chest and his throat thicken to the point where, even if given the opportunity, Scorpius didn't think he would be able to speak.

For the first time, he had no idea what to do with a correct answer.

"I…I care," Rose said at long last, sounding as overwhelmed as she'd been before she'd kissed him that last time. Dam broken and levees faulty, words seemed to pour from her unimpeded. "We've been friends since we were eleven. Of _course_, I care about him. He's practically a _part_ _of me_. Outside of family, he's—Jane's new, Quincy too, but Scorpius—don't you _dare_ accuse me of not giving a damn."

He could only imagine how furious Lily looked right then.

Rose struggled on, trying to repair her guards to raise them back up. "I don't know how—I don't. I just—_fuck_!" The frantic tone she'd taken was audible, and he was certain she was panicking at her inability to shut up. "I'm _not_ talking about this with _you_."

"I know—"

"You don't _know_ him, Lily." Rose told her not so gently. "You say you fancy him, but you only like the Scorpius that you see; the Scorpius that's clever and generous and quietly fierce. You only care about the superficial; that he'll look good with you in public. He's _much_ more than a damn prop."

In ten years of friendship, Scorpius never once needed confirmation of what she thought about him, but affirmation was calming.

"Lily," Rose continued, sounding tired. "I didn't snog him to hurt you. It just happened. I didn't know you were there. I'm not even certain how it all escalated so quickly. We just…" she made a little noise that was close to a painful groan. "I'm not even sure what the hell is going on in my own _head_ right now, let alone his, but we're _not_—"

"You're not secretly dating him?" Lily asked in a levelled tone.

"_Gods,_ _no! _Is_ that _what you think? Is that why you burst in here?"

"_Yes!_"

"Well, I'm not."

And just when he thought it was all over, Lily had the _audacity_ to request one more thing from her cousin. "Promise me that you won't. We'll make Scorpius off-limits."

"Off limits?" Rose retorted in disbelief. "To me or you?"

"I think you know the answer to that," she replied petulantly.

"Are you serious?" Her cousin must have responded because Rose mumbled something under her breath that sounded like _ridiculous_. "You've gone _mental_. Scorpius doesn't have a sign on him that says _Keep Off The Grass_. He's a fucking adult, as am I. You don't have the _right_ to make that sort of request."

But Lily wasn't backing down, not when she believed she had the upper hand. "It should be an easy promise since you're _mates_." Then she paused. "That's the only way I'll forgive you."

Rose said nothing and Scorpius held his breath. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for; what he had hoped to gain from just listening and not interrupting like he should – because Lily had _no_ right treating him like something to be owned. But perhaps, deep down, he wanted to hear her response because she _knew_ he was listening. He wanted to hear Rose make her own decision.

Wanted her to choose him.

"You're just not going to forgive me then."

Scorpius exhaled, thoughts running at full speed as he tried to process all of her verbal vomit.

Her answer _incensed_ Lily. "Why not?"

"I don't need your conditional forgiveness as I've done _nothing_ wrong." Rose sounded like she was about to have another episode of verbal vomit, but stopped herself. "When he compared you to his mother last night, that wasn't a fucking compliment. She tries to force her way into another part of his life where she doesn't belong. You're doing the same thing, and I don't understand why because you've got _no_ _right_ to him. _He's not yours_. He's not even your _friend_. And more than that, Scorpius is not a _thing_ that can be possessed or controlled. He simply _won't_ allow it."

"Well—"

"So help me, I'll fight you _right now_ if you keep on trying."

There was no mistaking her tone. She meant it.

"You want him for _yourself_."

At the accusation, Rose laughed, and it had a sort of hysterical edge in it that didn't sound funny. "Is that what you think? You think I would purposefully complicate one of the most _important_ relationships I have, for what? In spite of _you_?" Rose sounded _furious_. "I've always known your ego was out of control. I've always known you were immature. Thank you for the confirmation of both."

"I—"

"Oh, and just so you know, _he_ snogged _me_. Twice. Last night and on his birthday. How do you explain that?"

"You're his rebellion. You always have been," Lily's voice was callous, like she'd known where to set aim and was ready to fire everything she had. "You're everything his family doesn't want for him. You're not up to _anyone's_ expectations. You're smart, of course, and not unattractive. _However_, you have _nothing_ to offer him or his family. Brains aren't always everything."

It was like all the fire in Rose just _died_. "Is that all?"

The answer was no.

"You don't have a real career that the Malfoy _or_ Greengrass families would respect; you quit everything you start. Not to mention, you've never had a relationship that's lasted longer than your jobs. How can they _possibly_ want someone like _you_? You'll be a burden to him and you'll _never_ fit in the life he's set to inherit; you'll never be able to handle the pressure or the weight of their traditions. The moment it becomes too much, you'll just quit anyway. You're abrasive and selfish and improper and you have _no_ idea what you want. You hide your fears and insecurities behind your _stupid_ argument topics rather than talking about your problems like a normal human being, and it's because you know the truth: _you're not good enough_."

A deafening silence fell over everything.

"I hated saying that, but it's the truth."

"It didn't sound like you hated saying any of that," Rose sounded like all her emotions had been reduced to nothing but ash.

"Is that _all_ you have to say after everything I've said?" Lily snapped.

"You haven't said anything I haven't heard already."

"It's because you're a fuck-up, Rose," she said bluntly. "You're a disappointment and an embarrassment, and _everyone_ knows it. _Everyone_ thinks it. That's why Aunt Hermione's so worried about you; why she got you the job at St. Mungo's. You're a waste of potential and _that's_ why everyone indulges you; they're so used to you quitting everything and messing up that they _have_ to praise you when you get _one_ thing right. You may have fooled everyone into thinking you've gotten your shit together, but I know the truth. You've already gotten yourself in the middle of a _murder_ investigation. It's only a matter of time before you muck everything up again, and this time, you'll take down more than just yourself."

Scorpius was _far_ beyond hearing enough. He didn't care any more about Rose waving him off. He moved.

"You've got to know that his mother is set on finding him a suitable wife; no matter how much he obviously wants nothing to do with it. So, actually, it makes sense that he would rebel with _you_. It—"

"You're wrong on so many counts." Scorpius said from the doorway, causing both of their heads to jerk in his direction. Rose looked far paler than usual, but where he expected fury – and there was plenty of it – there was also a complicated swirl of other emotions he couldn't discern.

She was a bomb about to go off.

And that was the likely reason she was digging her fingernails into the back of her left hand; to physically _force_ herself not to explode in front of her cousin, and give her the victory she thought she had all but secured with her verbal attack.

"_Score_," Lily said in surprise, plastering on a weak smile. "I didn't know you were here."

"Does it matter?" he folded his arms across his chest, frowning. "You're wrong."

She twitched at his tone, but his face never changed. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you _exactly_ that you've wasted your time coming here. You're Al's sister, I'll never see you as anything else." Her face evened out, as her smile vanished. "As far as what you've said to Rose—"

"I only told her the truth," Lily said unapologetically. "_Someone_ had to."

"And you think _that's_ the truth?" he asked, voice low but fierce. "You think it's your job to speak it?"

"I do," she answered with a defiant lift of her chin.

Rose spoke up before he could tell Lily _exactly_ what he thought of her, what she'd said to Rose, and what she'd said about him. "Because you've elevated from writing jingles on the wireless to writing awful songs for pop artists and telling people how to dress—_that_ somehow makes you better than me?"

"You've—"

"It doesn't," she interrupted coldly. "You're no different from me, Lily. My mum may have gotten me my job – something I most _definitely_ didn't want her to do as I _hate_ nepotism – but you _never_ stop telling anyone who'll listen that you're a Potter. Do you think that _anyone_ would care about your songs or your fashion choices were the daughter of anyone else? No, they wouldn't. You're not even _qualified_ and your songs are _rubbish_. Stop acting like you're better because you're a nineteen-year-old wizarding world influencer."

"I've worked hard to get where I am."

"That's true, but you think—_no_, for fuck's sake, Lily, when you left Hogwarts, you didn't have a plan either. You only got your big break because Uncle Harry _asked_ them to use one of your jingles for a commercial on the Wireless, and it was _so awful_ that people found it catchy."

That shut Lily right up, because it was the truth.

"You don't have _any_ room to judge me for not knowing what I want out of life. You have no room to judge me, _at all_. You've got _no_ right to come here and act like I've committed a sin against you when I haven't."

Lily opened her mouth to speak, but Rose was having none of it.

"Wow," she intoned dryly, chuckling, but there was something very brittle in it; like she was one misstep from falling apart. Rose looked seconds from puncturing her skin with her nails. "Do you want to know why we aren't close, Lily?"

"Rose," he said her name because she sounded too raw and too hurt.

"You treat me like _shit_," her voice was thick with the emotions she all but was choking on. "For _years_, I've ignored it. I pretended that how you treat me doesn't bother me; that it doesn't matter because you're only being _yourself_. I've acted like I don't care that you treat me like I'm _nothing_ but a charity case; like I'll never amount to anything because I'm – I'm _not good enough._"

"Rose," Scorpius tried again her name again, but got no response.

"I may be all of what you've said since you came storming in here. I've heard it all before. I know who I am and I recognise my flaws for what they are, but I'm trying to better myself. Can you say the same?" She released her grip from her hand, fisting the sleeve of her shirt. "No, you can't."

He made a third attempt, but it was far too late.

Words spilled from her like water from a glass that had been teetering on the edge for quite some time. "How could I want to be close to someone like _you_? Someone who makes an effort to point out every _single_ mistake I've ever made as further evidence of their own superiority. Someone who turns every good thing I do into _rubbish_. I'm your cousin, but be honest, you don't give a _shit_ about me so stop pretending like you do. Stop _pretending_ that the distance between us is hurting you! It _only_ hurts you when you don't get your way!"

Lily just stared at her, face reddening.

"Why would I let you closer? So that you can stab me in the _front_, as opposed to the _back_?"

Rose stepped towards her cousin and Scorpius could almost _feel_ the thrum of her heavy emotions in the air around them.

"How could I want to be around someone so _toxic_, self-centred, and spoiled that they don't even notice that _they're_ the problem? You're the problem," Rose chuckled lowly. "And what's funny is that we're _all_ to blame. All of us! We've _always_ made excuses for your poor behaviour. We look away and remain silent when you're on the prowl. We enable you by letting you do and say whatever the hell you want at the expense of our own feelings. And why don't we speak up? Because it's easier. It's easier to be _poisoned_ by you rather than take the antidote, which is _putting you in your damn place._" She took a sharp breath. "Well, _here I am_, taking the antidote!"

She took another step towards Lily.

"But, you see," Rose spat hotly. "The problem is that when we _do_ fight back, all we hear are more excuses for you. _Lily's the youngest of the first pack and sometimes you and Al being so close is hard on her._"

It was a perfect impersonation of her uncle Harry.

"_Lily's just trying to help."_

And she sounded like her grandfather.

"_Just let her, Rose_. _It's easier that way."_

And she sounded like Uncle Percy.

"_Lily got that Weasley fire in her, but Rose you've got to be nicer because you're older. You know better."_

And she sounded like her grandmother.

"_I know what she said, but she's your cousin. She loves you."_

And she sounded like Teddy.

"_Fuck_," Rose clipped the coffee with her leg, but she didn't even notice. "I am _sick_ to _death_ of it!" She took another step towards her cousin, who had gone awfully silent, but her face was still red with anger. "I'm _finished_ pretending like you're not a _complete _and_ utter_ _shit!_ I'm _finished_ pretending for the sake of keeping the peace. I'm _finished_ letting you treat me however you want out of some misguided sense of family. I'm finished. _I'm done!_ I don't _care_ about your feelings. Right now, I don't even care about _you_." Rose pointed at the Floo that Lily had come from. "_Get out_."

An indignant, red-faced Lily looked at him as if he were going to overrule her.

He didn't.

"You should go."

And she did.

She grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the bowl in such a huff that she knocked the container over, breaking it and spilling powder everywhere. Her only reaction was that she looked down at the mess like it had personally offended her before stepping into the fireplace and leaving in a burst of green flames.

Rose waited until the flames had settled before she unconsciously walked backwards until her knees hit the sofa, forcing her to drop down. She grabbed at her hair, digging her hands in her scalp and gripping it tight, just for a second before she let it go. Rose took a series of breaths in an attempt to calm herself down before covering her face with her hands and expressing her rage and pain in a series of swear words muffled behind her hands.

And then her shoulders started shaking and he already knew what was coming.

Tears.

Scorpius _knew_ that he needed to say something – _anything_ that would kill the awful silence that followed Lily's departure – but _couldn't_. Physically, his lungs couldn't create the air pressure, nor could his brain formulate the right words or phrasing needed to say the words that had to be said.

"I'm _fine_," Rose choked out the lie with wet eyes. "This isn't anything I didn't already know."

But she broke anyway, taking deep and sharp breaths as she sobbed into her hands.

Scorpius thought back to how many times Rose had said that phrase: she'd said it three times today, once when she had last argued with Henrietta, and he'd heard her say that to his mother a time too many in the past. She sounded wounded, but reconciled; like she believed everything they had said about her and had accepted their words as the truth.

And his truth was – well, he _couldn't_ remain quiet.

"I'm being stupid," she whispered. Tears coursed down her cheeks that she aggressively rubbed away with the back of her hand. Her body language was still tense as she struggled to pull herself together. "It's _just_ Lily being an utter _shit_. I shouldn't be upset. There's knowing the truth, and hearing it. I'll be fine," Rose told herself. "I'm _always_ fine." Her voice broke. "I-I have to be."

"Rose."

She took a quick shuddering breath, bowing her head. "_I know_."

"_No_, you don't."

After steeling himself, Scorpius kneeled in front of Rose, carefully placing his hands on her knees. For what felt like too long, he didn't move. He only watched her cycle between sniffling and staring blankly into space as she _visibly_ fought to keep herself from feeling the full extent of her painful emotions.

Or displaying them.

He noticed that she'd successfully torn a hole in the sleeve of her jumper, but it didn't matter. He would help her mend it, just like he would help her repair everything else. Scorpius couldn't fix everything. Couldn't fix how she saw herself. Couldn't fix her insecurities. That she had to do herself. But she had his support, even if all he could do was vocalise the truth.

His truth.

It had nothing to do with him or his stupidly named Post-Serial Killer plans. He wasn't expecting a response; he only hoped that his words would help ease her mind. Scorpius inhaled, ignoring the logistics, his own anxiety and fears. He exhaled and cleared his mind of everything. Then Scorpius allowed the words to come out unchecked:

"To me, you're not a fuck up," Scorpius said with such quiet intensity that Rose lifted her head to meet his gaze. His nerves tried to return, but he ignored them by focusing on her.

He covered her tight fist with his hand.

"To me, you're not a rebellion." Rose's expression shifted to something he found impossible to interpret. Tears continued to fall unchecked, but she stopped trying to hide them. Stopped trying to resist. He took his hand from her knee and cupped her cheek with the palm, wiping away the tears with his thumb as he held her gaze.

Her entire body relaxed and he knew right then that he had her undivided attention.

"To me, you're—"

And the Floo burst to life with the arrival of Albus.

Then her parents.

* * *

He thought it was a figment of his imagination, but no: _everyone_ was staring at him.

They were crowded around Rose's tiny dining table – her parents in the two seats across from him and Al. Rose, who had all but Disapparated into the kitchen when everyone had arrived, was busy making tea that no one would drink and hunting down pastries that none of them would eat.

Except her dad.

Scorpius cleared his throat, trying his luck with Al. "Did you tell them what happened?"

Before his best friend could respond, Hermione spoke up, sounding very matter-of-fact. "He did, and Barracus aside, I'd much rather talk about my daughter and why she's hiding in the kitchen."

He glanced over at her dad, who was leaned back in his chair. He looked torn between going in there after Rose, and remaining in his chair because he knew it wouldn't make anything better. Scorpius looked at his best friend for assistance, but Albus was giving him the same pointed look as his aunt.

It was no use.

"Um…"

"Lily's bag is on the sofa." Al astutely pointed out. "Was she here?"

"She was," he answered in a tone that only made Al glare at him harder because he _knew_ that Scorpius was holding back. "They got into an argument."

Which was putting it extremely lightly. They should have drawn their wands to maximize the destruction. Or at least for the room to reflect the damage they'd caused each other.

"I _told_ her to leave it," Al said more to himself, face twisting into a deep scowl.

"Leave what?" Hermione asked her nephew, impatiently tapping her fingernail on the table.

Al looked at him and the look on his face told Scorpius everything that he needed to know. He'd changed shirts since lunch because he was planning to see Jane, which meant that Al had gone back to their flat; perhaps after he'd rounded up his aunt and uncle. Everything after – it all clicked.

Lily had been there and she told him what she'd seen, expecting him to take her side. And when he didn't, they argued and she'd come straight to Rose's flat to confront her directly.

"She told me that she was going to meet some mates at the spa to get her mind off things."

Hermione looked between them, very interested.

Scorpius blinked at him. "And you _believed_ her?"

Al tried to respond, but Rose emerged from the kitchen with a tea kettle and five cups floating next to her, effectively ending the conversation. She held a plate of biscuits that looked edible – so that meant she hadn't made them herself. As everything was placed on the table, Rose used magic to pour hot water in each teacup and place the tea bags. She summoned sugar cubes and honey from the kitchen and sat in her seat at the end of the table between him and her mother.

Scorpius could see her parents' concern, but also knew Rose didn't want to talk about anything, so he attempted to start the conversation. "So, Barracus."

Her dad immediately ate two biscuits, back-to-back.

"What _exactly_ happened with him?" Hermione asked them both, but knew very well that she wouldn't forget their previous topic of discussion.

Al jumped right in. "That creepy, Ministry-file reading—"

Which grabbed her attention. "Ministry file?"

"He literally summarised Rose's file to us, and threatened to do the same to me."

"I have a file?" she asked quietly.

Hermione tried to hand Rose a biscuit when her dad went for his third, but she only eyed it and declined, which seemed to worry her mother more.

She loved sweets more than she loved most people.

"Of course, you do, love. We _all_ have a file," her frown seemed to gradually appear. "However, I went through a great deal of trouble to keep yours and Hugo's private since I'm to be Minister. I didn't want anyone nosing around because of that. Al," she addressed her nephew. "I know that Harry did the same for you, James, and Lily when you were younger." She looked over at her husband, who was thoughtfully frowning.

It was so similar to Rose that it was sort of comical.

"Well, he was most definitely informed," Al told her, shuddering at the memory. "He even knew about the _A_ Rose got in Muggle Studies Third Year."

"Ah, when I made up that fake fact about Muggles and—"

"You did _what_?"

Ron started laughing and Rose's eye shifted from side-to-side in an attempt to avoid her mother's penetrating gaze. "It's sort of a funny story."

Which only made her dad laugh harder. Hermione hit her in the arm husband until he stopped, but he snuck a look of approval at his daughter when her mum wasn't looking that made Rose give him a tiny smirk in response.

Whatever worked.

"We'll revisit that story later," and he had no doubt that she would.

Scorpius glanced over at Al, who wasn't laughing, but wore a pensive look. He doubted that they were thinking about the same thing.

"He managed to get Rose and Al's Ministry files, despite the fact that they're private." Scorpius pointed out. "Shouldn't we find a way to obtain his file? For motivation purposes. Because he's _too_ fixated on this dagger for him to simply want it back in The Department of Mysteries. He told is that he'd spent his entire career working with it. There has to be a reason why he's doing all this work himself in an effort to get it back. Something personal. Department Heads rarely get involved in this sort of investigation."

"_I_ did," she pointed out. "I lead the investigation before Rose's attack."

"Obviously because Rose is a staff member, and naturally, you would want to protect her."

Hermione looked right at him. "_And you_." Which made him pause, mid thought. Scorpius had known that she cared for him – as much as anyone would care about the best friend of their daughter and nephew.

Knowing that she thought of him as someone worth protecting rendered him speechless.

"The assignment came the day after William Savage died," she confessed. "The results of his autopsy prompted us to launch a full investigation as his death was not related to his injuries. I talked it over first with Ron, then with the Minister and Harry, and they all agreed that I should personally lead the investigation as you two were on staff. Not that it mattered, _none of them_ would be able to stop my involvement anyway."

Scorpius looked at Ron, who nodded in confirmation. He glanced at Rose, who was looking at her parents strangely.

"Harry created a team of Aurors to assist, and together, we tried to stress the importance of vigilance and figure out who was behind the deaths without starting an outright panic. People kept dying and we learned very little until Rose's attack. Then, we learned that the situation was far more complicated than any of us had anticipated, but it was too late. I had to step back and allow Cauldwell to continue on as lead, as he was the most senior investigator that wasn't already on assignment. Needless to say, that didn't go as anticipated because he tried to use Rose's involvement to negatively reflect on me." She rolled her eyes at that and her husband just smirked like they had done a very stupid thing by messing with his wife.

Which wasn't wrong.

"Cauldwell supported a far more conservative contender for the Minister of Magic position, who alerted him to the fact that I'd been appointed instead."

His abrupt relinquishment of the investigation to the Department of Mysteries, just in time for Rose's Inquiry, made so much more sense on a political scale.

"The only positive after Rose's attack was that the murders stopped, giving us time to research and try to find out more about the dagger. After talking to Quincy's mother and learning that the dagger belonged to them, I approached Barracus to ask for his assistance as they knew so much about the weapon already. He seemed intrigued when I mentioned the dagger and I thought he would be keen to help. I had _no idea_ he would usurp the investigation and Rose's Inquiry until Albus burst in and told me what had happened."

Hermione then proceeded to dig in her beaded bag, producing a folder filled to the brim with parchment and sat them on the table in front of Rose.

"Everything you need to know about Barracus is right here." And that had him immediately interested, but next to him, Rose looked a little hesitant to even touch it. "The night of your Inquiry, when you left to go to bed, I went back to the Ministry because I thought we might need this. It's a copy, of course, but I managed to acquire—"

Ron smothered the word _steal_ in his cough.

She glared at him. "I _acquired_ Barracus's Ministry file from the Hall of Records." She then flashed a smile at her nephew. "Thank you for the cloak, Albus."

He grinned, but it fell flat as he was still upset about the role that he'd played in his sister barging in on Rose. "Anytime, Aunt Hermione." Both Scorpius and Rose levelled him with looks, which made Al look at them both sheepishly. "You were at your family dinner, and _you_ were barely holding it together."

"Uh-huh," was their simultaneous reply. He and Rose then exchanged looks and the corner of her mouth twitched before she went to pick up the file her mother had placed on the table. She opened it and there was a picture of Barracus, in all his egotistical glory, receiving his Order of Merlin – Third Class.

"Oh, and I forgot." And she went back into her bag while Rose started paging through his file while Scorpius scooted his chair closer to look on.

Hermione's head and entire arm were in her beaded bag before she found whatever it was that she had been looking for. Ron was rolling his eyes fondly from and then affectionately patted her hair down when she came back out with two more files. Scorpius picked up the top file, quirking a brow at the name. "Who is…Alder Henry?"

Rose looked up sharply, but it was Hermione that answered. "He's one of the Unspeakables from the Inquiry. I saw him in Rose's memory when she wisely asked for their names. They are the only Unspeakables with those last names, so they weren't hard to find. Alder Henry was the nervous one who tried to intervene, and Walden Brown was the researcher who seemed too giddy about the very idea of suppressing magic. I haven't had a chance to read either of their records, but they were accessible and I made copies."

Rose gawked at her mum. "I gave you the memory _three_ hours ago."

And her response was a mere shrug. "I was properly motivated."

"Why do you need _their_ files, Aunt Hermione?" Al asked, genuinely curious.

"A mother likes to know these things."

There was something in her tone that made Rose visibly tense. "Mum…"

"'Mione, you said you'd wait."

Whatever she had promised her husband earlier was off the table. "Why didn't you _tell_ us?"

Scorpius was curious, immediately latching on to the idea that her mum had figured out the missing piece of her interrogation that Rose hadn't been able to tell him. Al looked genuinely confused, which was to be expected because – as Barracus pointed out – Rose hadn't told him much…if anything at all. Ron just sighed the sigh of someone who knew how to pick his battles. Rose's reaction to her mother's question was so visceral. She'd gone so rigid that her shoulders were bunched to her ears. Defensive. Rather than make eye contact, she had opted to stare down at Barracus' file until Scorpius reached over and folded it shut.

His face was the last thing she needed to focus on.

Hermione sighed, reaching to cover her daughter's hand. She was trying. "I know this has all been hard on you. _I know_, but I had _no idea_—I wasn't prepared to see what I saw. No parent wants to see someone threaten their child. Not like that."

Threaten.

Rose said nothing, only stared at their joined hands; her face terribly pale. More than anything, she still looked worn and fragile from before. Still brittle. Still ready to crumble.

"I'm not upset at you, Rose. _I'm not._ I just—an _Unforgivable_? He _threatened_ you, and all I could do was watch it happen." Shakily, Hermione reached over and tucked Rose's hair behind her ear, and cupping her cheek with the same hand. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Her behaviour, the way she tensed when she heard Barracus' name…it all made sense.

He should have let Al hex him. And when he looked over at his best friend, Scorpius knew he was thinking the same thing.

"I—" Rose took her hand back from her mum, holding it to her chest, head still down. Ron stood then and came around his wife, kneeling at his daughter's side; not touching her but the back of her chair. He and Al exchanged a second look, wondering if they needed to leave, but her dad gestured for them to stay.

No sudden moves or she might shut down completely.

"Rosie?" he tried gently.

She looked at her dad. "I was trying to handle it all on my own."

"You don't have to," her dad said quietly. "You've got us. All of us."

"I know mum can't be too involved. It's not a good look for her now."

He felt her hand brush against his, and it was not accident. Rose was actively searching for contact until she found it. And Scorpius angled himself enough to comfortably take the hand she'd given him, holding on.

"You may be twenty-one, but you're still our Rosie. We _want_ to be here for you. And," her dad dropped a light kiss on her forehead, chuckling to himself when he said, "It's been a long time since your mum cared about following _rules_."

Hermione glared, but there was no heat behind it. "What your dad means is—"

Rose worked her jaw, as if she were trying to hold back, but the words came anyway. "I was trying not to be a fuck up…_again_."

It was said in that same hollow voice from earlier. And for a moment, Scorpius shut his eyes, reliving the argument he'd witnessed; listening to Lily's words that seemed to have stayed with Rose. Words that had been with her for longer than he'd ever realised. Al went very still, balling his hands into tight fists. Her dad looked both sad and troubled, but her mum looked almost sick.

Her parents exchanged rather heartbroken looks, and while Ron pulled his daughter into an assuring hug – as best as he could in his position – Hermione put one hand on Rose's knee and the other on her husband's back. Then she spoke with more emotion than he'd ever heard from her: "I have never _once_ thought of you as a fuck-up."

She picked up her hand only to wipe her own tears that had fallen during her statement.

Rose looked up from her hands, focused on her mother in such a way that he hadn't seen before.

"Who said that to you?"

She didn't answer.

"Is _that_ what you think of yourself?"

Rose's continued unresponsiveness seemed to hurt her parents more.

And he found that it hurt him, too.

"This isn't about my feelings," Hermione said gently. "I can't help but feel like this is my fault."

Her dad opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head.

"I've pushed you for _years_, Rose. I've talked to you, lectured you, implored you, tried to reason with you, fought with you, yelled at you, and even tried to guilty trip you. I've showed the extent of my frustration, and I've…done it around certain people who may have misconstrued my feelings as disappointment."

Scorpius knew that she'd picked up on the cues from his and Al's conversation to determine what had happened.

"I'm _not_ disappointed in you." Hermione rubbed away Rose's tear with her thumb. "I'm _so_ sorry if I made you feel like you weren't good enough." She took her hand again and squeezed it gently. "You _are_."

Her dad adjusted his hold on her and she slowly relented, relaxing in his embrace, breaking. Rose lifted her head again and there were fresh tears in her eyes. Her mother looked almost physically wounded by the display of raw emotion coming from her daughter because it was something she saw so rarely. Rose only cried when she got too emotional. As a last resort.

And that probably spurred her on.

"I push you, not only because I worry about you, but because I _believe_ _in you_." Rose looked confused and her mum looked down briefly before meeting her eyes again. "I thought I was helping you. I thought—you have _so much_ potential. You're brilliant, and because of that, you can do anything you want, be anyone you want, and I've—" she seemed to stumble on her words. "When you were a little girl, Rose, you wanted to be _everything_ and I nurtured that. I let you try as many things as you wanted. I'm not sure when or why I stopped letting you search for what makes you happy."

Rose tried to speak as she gripped his hand, but the words were caught in her throat. Which was fine because her mother wasn't done and her father kept thumbing her tears away before the fell too far.

"Your dad quit two careers before he found his passion, and after going through Auror training, I shifted my attention to reforming the treatment of magical creatures. I was applying to become the head of the Being Division before I made an abrupt turn to the DMLE and realised my own passion. I can't expect for you to find your passion the same way because life doesn't work like that."

Hermione following the stretch of Rose's other arm to him. She gave him a look he didn't understand, then focused back on her daughter.

Her words came easier.

"No one has all the answers, not even me. I learned growing up with your dad and Harry that there are so many unknowns in the universe; so much change, so many situations and events. I learned that it's those moments that'll send us in so many different directions that it's nearly impossible to know where we're headed or where we'll end up."

Hermione slipped out of her chair, onto her knees in front of Rose, who watched her every move as her cheeks grew redder and redder. Ron rested his head on top of his daughter's; his eyes focused on his wife while he patted her arm in his continued effort to comfort her.

After gently tucking another piece of Rose's stubborn hair behind her ear, her mum said, "We're _all_ still searching, _all_ still learning, _all_ still discovering who we are, where we're meant to wind up, and what we're meant to be. And that's more than okay. It's _normal_."

Rose was listening to her right then; truly taking in her words.

"Your dad has always said that I'm linear in my thinking, and he's right. I have a constant need to set goals, evaluate results, and report on outcomes. I always see logical shortcuts and solutions to problems before they're realised." She rubbed away her own tears as she struggled yet again to convey her thoughts. "I've always been one step ahead with everything, even with Hugo. But with you, Rose, I've constantly struggled to keep up. I've stumbled. I've made mistakes. I've had moments when I had _no clue_ what I was doing. And I know that I've not always done the right thing that works for you. This bet we made when you started at St. Mungo's? Serial killer and altered memories aside, it wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

And it was such a human confession that it made him respect her even more.

"For _years_, we've fought about you." Rose blinked in confusion. She hadn't known that. She turned to her dad, who nodded; then looked at her mother. "Your dad has _repeatedly_ told me to stop pushing you, stop worrying about you, and let you be who you are. He told me that you'll be fine; you'll figure it out and find your own way if we leave it up to you. He told me that we'd lose you if I didn't stop. Of course, I never listened." She looked so remorseful. Hermione let her own tears fall as she brushed her thumb over the back of Rose's hand repeatedly. "I've treated you like a problem to be solved, Rose, but you aren't. You're some of me, a lot of your dad, but overall, you're someone entirely different. I shouldn't have projected _my_ wants and desires on you. This is _your life_."

The tension in Rose's body slowly vanished, but her tears remained open for everyone to see.

"This entire experience has made me realise just how right your dad was." Hermione gave her a watery smile. "That the only way you'll grow is if I stop fighting you into the shape that I want you to be."

There was a dazed look on Rose's face; like she couldn't believe what her mother had said.

Or was continuing to say.

"No matter how difficult you are. No matter how absolutely _batty_ you drive me – because by the _gods_, _you do_," she chuckled wetly when Rose sniffed and rolled her eyes. "I love you _so much_. I want what's best for you, even when I don't agree with the choices you've made. I don't like that you didn't tell us about—"

"I was thinking about you," Rose spoke up quietly. "You're about to be _Minister_. All of our lives are about to change. It's your dream and I _won't_ mess this up for you. I _can't_. I took all this on – the research and everything – so you wouldn't have to. I didn't want anyone to see your actions during the investigation as showing favouritism towards me. I was trying to handle the stress of it all myself."

"If you think I care more about being Minister of Magic than I care about _you_, I've made an egregious error," her mum said with such conviction that Scorpius found himself listening far too intently on words that weren't intended for him – words that Rose needed more than anything. "I don't give a _damn_ about being Minister. I care about _you_, your dad, and Hugo. I care about our family and friends. Outside of that, everything else is inconsequential. I'd quit if it would guarantee your safety and happiness."

And she meant that.

Rose said nothing for several moments, seeming to struggle with words until she choked out, "I love you, mum." And Hermione looked surprised – not by her words, but the fact that she'd said them aloud. Knowing Rose, she hadn't said those words in a long time. "I don't want you to give up your dream, so don't. _Please_."

Her next words were unexpectedly honest.

"I've been struggling since I got attacked. Not every day, but sometimes. I think more about it since the Inquiry, but I've been trying to push through," she choked up for a second, squeezing his hand until she caught her breath. "I've never been anxious like this. I want to be alone, but I can't even _sleep_ by myself. I have _terrible_ dreams of the fake memories; of that night and that _curse_. Jane has been trying to help, but I'm _stressed_ _out_, mum," Rose confessed, and she looked past her mother for a moment. "I wonder why I'm like this. I've got these bruises that I should have let you heal, but I _can't_. Why was I so upset after my Inquiry when they didn't even use the Unforgivable? Why am I _still_ upset?"

"Because something _happened_ to you," Hermione told her emphatically. "I'd be _more_ worried if you were fine with everything."

Rose shrugged awkwardly, "Worse things have happened to you and dad and—"

"There's no scale for trauma. No one's trauma weighs more than another's."

"It all hurts," her dad added. "It's all painful."

Nodding in agreement, Hermione told her, "The brain doesn't differentiate between a large or small traumatic event. It just registers the event as a threat you can't control. You being attacked was out of your control, as was your interrogation. Your feelings are valid because they're _your_ feelings."

She nodded slowly, as if she were committing the words to memory. "Jane told me that."

"It's true," her mum gave her a soft look.

Rose inhaled then exhaled, closing her eyes as she sank into her father's embrace enough to find the words. "I'm fighting, trying to work on myself to get back to normal. Or a new normal. I'm not sure." She sniffed and let out a dry, but tense laugh. "I probably need a therapist."

Which was a massive thing for Rose to admit aloud, but she felt safe with them there.

Protected.

It was the only time she ever truly opened up.

"_I'll _find you the best—" at the glare Ron gave her, Hermione looked sheepish. "I'll let _you_ find your own therapist. Whatever you need, we're here for you. All of us. We'll sort through this together, as a family." And though she wasn't looking at him, Scorpius could tell she had included him in the statement.

"Thank you," Rose said quietly before taking a deep breath. She glanced over at him and Al, who looked far more contemplative than he'd been earlier with Barracus. "Thank you for _always_ being here."

"Love, I don't—" Hermione quickly glanced over at Scorpius and Al before focusing back on Rose. "I don't exactly know what happened before we arrived, but you _obviously_ aren't okay. Take some time to sort through everything and decompress." And she looked hopeful when she suggested, "Breakfast tomorrow? I'll make your favourites."

She sniffed. "With _all_ the sugar?"

Her dad wore a matching hopeful look.

After rolling her eyes, Hermione grinned and nodded, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "With as much sugar as the recipe recommends."

Rose genuinely smiled for the first time – wet eyes, splotchy cheeks, and all. "It's a deal."

Hermione let go of her hand and got to her feet at the same time as her dad, though the latter grouched about his knees and being too old. Her mother came around and kissed the pensive Al on the forehead and said something to him that made him hug her tight, nodding with his eyes shut. After, she ruffled Scorpius' hair; allowing a look that clearly said _take care of my daughter_ to linger.

He nodded in response.

Abruptly, Rose let go of his hand and stood.

First, she hugged her dad, burying her face in his chest and holding on to him; looking very small in his embrace. She lifted her head to say something to him that was only meant for his ears and Ron nodded, smiling as he bent to touch his forehead against hers as if it were a secret gesture that only the two of them knew the meaning. He glanced over at his wife, who was waiting, and he released Rose, nudging her over towards her mother.

Rose didn't need much prompting, as it turned out.

She wrapped her mum up in a hug that Hermione eagerly and firmly returned. Al had said that they had been getting along better, but hadn't witnessed to the easing of their friction until right then. It was nice. Rose obviously needed her mum.

People never stopped needing their parents, after all.

Al stood up, still looking tense, but seemed a bit better after whatever his aunt had said to him. He quietly picked up all the cups and walked them into the kitchen himself. While he was gone and Rose was wrapped up in her hug with her mother, Ron came around and clapped Scorpius on the shoulder a little too hard for his liking, but he didn't wince.

He did, however, nearly drop dead on the spot when – for his ears only – her dad said: "Rosie said that she can't sleep alone, and that makes me wonder who's bed she's been sleeping in. She won't share a bed unless she's comfortable, which excludes almost everyone, including Al. He snores."

Scorpius swallowed reflexively.

"That's what I thought," Ron concluded with a very fatherly look. Al came out the kitchen right then, saw the look on his uncle's face and crept backwards until he was out of sight again; effectively leaving him to fend for himself. The bastard. "I should say something clichéd right now, but the chances of my daughter hurting you is _significantly_ higher than the reverse. So, with that being said, I'm going to have _several_ drinks tonight and try to forget about _all_ this."

"Umm…"

"_Several drinks_," her dad repeated before joining the hug with his wife and daughter until Rose grouched about being smothered. "But it's by our love!" Ron countered, which made her laugher ring out in the small space.

Soon after, Hermione repaired Rose's Floo powder container without comment and they left.

Al, who had timed his re-entrance perfectly, picked up Lily's bag off the sofa and Scorpius knew where he was going. Judging from the heated look on his face, he wasn't going to hold back. He quickly hugged Rose, who looked surprised by the initial contact, but didn't complain; holding on to her cousin far longer than usual.

"I'll be back," he told Rose firmly. "Might be a while, but I'm coming back."

"Okay…" she looked mystified.

And then it was just the two of them, standing on either side of her small table. To his surprise, Rose actually approached _him_, standing close enough in front of him that her socked feet were touching his. She peered up at him, almost wincing, "We probably should talk about what you heard. I—"

"Later." Or at some point when she no longer looked so wrung out. "Go have a shower. I'll sort it all out."

Rose gave him a complex look that melted into something hesitant. But she didn't argue, only nodding and walking towards her bedroom. When he heard running water, Scorpius examined the state of her refrigerator to determine if she had the right ingredients for him to make a dish.

Naturally, she didn't.

By the time he'd narrowed down the viable options from the takeaway menus tacked to the refrigerator, Scorpius heard the Floo and went to identify the visitor. It was Jane, who was bizarrely dressed in a walrus onesie with a hood – that was a walrus head, tusks and all – that almost covered her entire face. She was balancing at least seven takeaway bags from different restaurants on her arms…as her hands were paws.

Her only excuse for her attire was: "I am the walrus."

Scorpius just blinked. "What?"

Jane sighed. "I thought Rose introduced you to The Beatles."

"Is that a film?"

She looked offended, but put one arm of takeaway bags on the coffee table instead of saying anything. "We'll revisit that hole in your pop culture lessons later because I need more time and vinyl records, and plus, Al told me what happened. Well, bits." There was a flash of confusion that crossed her face, but it vanished just as quick. "He wasn't very clear because he was on his way to see Lily." She held up her other arm that was still loaded with bags, flashing a bright smile that made her eyes crinkle at the sides. "I brought food. All of Rose's favourite takeaway places. I even got kebabs!"

"Thanks," Scorpius smiled, still a bit bewildered about her attire. "I was just thinking about takeaway."

"And now you don't have to," she looked around, eyes narrowing as if she'd only just recognised something was amiss. She pushed her hood back, letting it fall off her head completely. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs were kept back with a bright orange headband. "Where's Rose and why is the energy_ strange_?" Then, she looked at him closely. "You look knackered."

He replied to all three of her statements at once. "Rose is having a shower, it's a long story that involves a fight with Lily and conversation with her parents, and…" he exhaled, showing his weariness for the first time. "_I am_."

"Lily was here?" her smile slipped as she lowered her voice as if trying to speak on a topic that was delicate. "I find it surprising how _no one_ says anything when she's being tactless, like at dinner last night, but it's not my place." Jane didn't let him respond, which was for the best as he found he was a bit speechless. Scorpius had known Jane was perceptive, but hadn't known the depths of her observation. "Lily and Rose don't mix well. She knows _exactly_ what to say – true or not – to hit Rose where it hurts, and she's reckless with her words. She distresses her energy. Rattles her Chi."

"I have no idea what that is."

Jane put down the bags on the kitchen table. "Because you allow logic to guide your emotions," she shrugged, but peered up at him with a sagacious smile. "Although, I can't say that's entirely true lately…"

He had no reaction because her comment was just an observation.

"You both have a rather odd love language – yours more than hers," she sounded humoured, but he only found it ironic that _Jane_ – of all people – had called someone else odd. "Making sure that you're a consistent and steady presence in her life is how you've shown your affection; at least, since I've known you. We value the things we've missed out on in some capacity."

She wasn't wrong.

"It's nice that you've started to vocalise more. Words are powerful and so are actions…" Jane whistled a tune while bobbing her head to it as she checked each bag to be sure the orders were correct. "Rose shows how much she values someone by paying close attention to them, by doing small things for them and negating the meaning behind her actions. She's funny like that."

Scorpius chuckled.

"She lets me drag her along to the places I've always wanted to go, but never would – because I never wanted to go alone. She begged her Nan to let me start a small garden at the Burrow; even though she complained about helping me weed it. I think that's Rose's love language. Grouching along, but doing whatever it takes to make the people she cares about happy." She thought about it for a moment, then smiled fondly. "That, and sharing food."

Jane started un-bagging everything and he helped.

"People think our friendship is very one-sided, but it's not. She's prickly and a bit ridiculous, but I find her hilarious. She knows she's not easy, but I've never met someone as easy to fall into sync with. I've never had so many friends before, so what would I know? People have always found me strange," Jane stated the obvious with a nonchalant shrug. "I've spent a lot of time alone, but I never minded it. Everything is different now, and I'll be the first to confess that I'm glad for the change," she smiled serenely. "I've never once felt left out…and I think you understand that feeling."

Scorpius nodded. Her story sounded similar to his before he met Al and Rose on the Hogwarts Express.

"I know how you feel about her," Jane said in an abrupt topic change. "It's clear to everyone, except Rose, but her emotional range is changing. Opening up bit by bit. It's going to hurt. It's going to be uncomfortable, because character growth isn't an easy process. So, just keep speaking to her in that love language of yours, and she'll decipher the translation. I think she knows, _very_ deep down, but can't sort it out as she's had you in the wrong category for years." Jane said, giving him a bemused look. "You know, the category where she calls you a friend, and you _are_ that, but also _so much more_."

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing.

"It doesn't help that Rose is deeply insecure about her role she plays in her own life." Jane's smile faded, and she seemed hurt by her friend's struggles. "She wants to move forward, wants to find her passion, but doesn't know how or which step to take or even the direction she wants to go in. But you already know that. I know her insecurities may seem strange to you because you love her," and she said it so casually that he almost dropped the food he was holding. Jane looked at him – a smirk playing on her lips. "You do, don't you?"

And he voiced it for the first time. "I-I do."

It sounded rather clumsy to his own ears, but Jane looked downright cheery. "It's good that you don't take it so lightly. Good that you sound a bit sick."

Scorpius was highly sceptical. "Is it?"

Jane just nodded while grinning brightly. "Love is a task. It's not meant to be easy, but I think you understand that. You've always been accepting and appreciative of Rose as she is and I'm certain you'll support her going forward as she becomes who she's intended to be."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you've loved her for a long time. You've put a label on it now, but the actions and feelings associated with the word have always been there. Long enough that you know how important it is that you give her the freedom to be on her own journey – whether she's succeeding or struggling to address the challenges in front of her. Like now."

After searching the bags for cutlery, she smiling victoriously when she found what she needed, despite the seriousness of her words. For a second, she looked around wildly before spotting her paw mittens on the sofa and exhaling with relief.

"There they are."

Scorpius found himself strangely lost. It wasn't an uncommon feeling around her.

"I've noticed Rose isn't very kind to herself," Jane said abruptly, no longer smiling. "She takes everything so personally, and buries her feelings so deep that she forgets they're there until someone starts digging and hits her where it hurts." And that was the best way to describe what had happened with Lily. "She knows her own flaws too well, and accepts people's interpretation of her at face value, even when they're wrong about her. We often are our own worst enemy."

And then she focused on him intensely; so much that Scorpius took a step back.

"I can only align her chakras, keep her focused and calm. I can monitor her energy and those around her, but I can't get through to her like you can. _Show her_ as many times as you need to, speak to her in your language, and maybe she'll figure out what she wants. Maybe then she'll understand that you're something that she _can_ want; someone that she's allowed to have because she _deserves_ nice things. Maybe then she'll realise that you're something she can't bugger up."

He thought that she was going to keep talking, as he was absorbing everything she was saying, but Jane only continued whistling her tune.

"Eating at the table is quite dull, unless there's more people."

Which was how they ended up moving her coffee table across the room, lying down blankets in front of the telly, and moving the spread of food from the table to the blankets. Quincy arrived soon after looking as if he'd just returned from a photo shoot with two films in one hand and two bottles of Elf-Wine in the other.

He was nearly out of breath.

"I got your message, Jane. Here are the films and the wine that I stole off the set." He blinked when he _actually_ noticed what Jane was wearing. "_Anyone_ want to tell me what's going on?"

"There's food?" Jane presented the spread on the blankets with a grandiose wave of her hand and a grin. "Delicious food!"

For a moment, he didn't look amused. Then he _really_ looked at the food. "There's pasta and kebabs, stir fry and fried chicken, pork belly and…are those Souvlaki wraps?" Jane nodded with excitement. "_And_ fish and chips? Pot stickers and dumplings? What's the theme of the meal?"

Jane just shrugged. "Rose."

Quincy smirked. "And _now_ this makes sense."

"There are some vegetarian options for Scorpius. The stir fry doesn't have any meat in it. I know Rose wouldn't like it if we forgot about you, so…" she trailed off with a cheery shrug, then she perked up when Rose came around the corner towel-drying her hair in black and blue plaid pyjama pants and a worn grey shirt. "Rose!"

She looked torn between hesitant and hungry enough to eat without question. "What's all this?"

Rose looked at Jane's attire and moved on like it made perfect sense.

"Your support dinner!" Jane announced. "We're going to eat and watch films and _sing songs_."

"_Yeah_," Quincy cleared his throat. "I'm not doing that last one."

"Neither am I." Scorpius added.

Jane sighed sadly, but Rose just smiled and it wasn't so tense. "I'll sing _one_ song. Only one."

Which made her brighten instantly.

Pretty soon they were arranged on the blanket – Quincy and Jane on one side, Scorpius and Rose on the other. There was an empty spot next to Jane for Al. But in the meantime, they were eating while Jane played music from the Wireless. After fulfilling her promise, Rose's spirits improved to the point where she was clapping along to Jane's off-key singing and laughing at Quincy's playful complaining.

But she kept glancing at the fireplace. Looking for her cousin.

"He'll be back," Jane said to Rose while changing the station on the Wireless. "He said he would."

True to her word, Al stepped out the fireplace not ten minutes later. He wasn't alone.

Rose made room for James by scooting closer to Scorpius.

Before Al could take his seat, Jane approached him, looking at him with a concerned tilt of her head. He looked very much like himself; even laughing when Quincy made a joke about his day. However, even Rose could see the tension that seemed to reverberate from him, the tired lines around his eyes, and the odd flush of his skin.

Come to think of it, James looked a little odd as well, but he was much better at masking his feelings through humour. And yet, Rose reached over and got her older cousin's attention. "All right?"

James made a face that spoke of his and Al's shared mood. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."

That didn't sound particularly comforting. Or very much like an answer.

Rose cut her eyes from James to Al, preparing say something to him. However, Scorpius stopped her, gesturing to the way Jane had so freely extended her hands to Albus; quietly asking him to take them with that silly walrus hood pushed back enough for him to see her entire face. And he noted the way she was meeting his eyes, open and warm.

Of course, Al took them without much hesitation, allowing her to pull him across the room to dance to the upbeat music coming from the Wireless. His movements were stiff at first, but Jane kept dancing around him, spinning and doing ballet moves while wildly waving her hands. In a walrus onesie. The sight alone made him crack a wide smile.

In no time, Al's body relaxed; his body language changed. His edgy smile turned genuine; then morphed into a grin as his movements got a little smoother. Pretty soon, they were doing a clumsy waltz while laughing at nothing.

Jane's hood had fallen off the first time Al twirled her around.

James and Quincy started passing one of the bottles between the two of them, while making plans to go to another rave in Knockturn Alley later with Matilda and some of his modelling friends to kickstart the weekend. When he asked Rose if it was okay for them to go ahead, she waved them off with a smile and told them to have fun.

James invited her to tag along, but she declined. As did he.

"Are you okay?" Scorpius asked several songs after Quincy and James left for their night out; it was a slower one that had Jane and Al swaying from side to side, holding on to each other as they talked quietly. Al had Jane's walrus paws on and they both looked ridiculously happy.

Rose never answered his question, but he could tell that she was full and content, even though she was still eyeing the last kebab to determine if it could fit. She had been comfortably leaned against him since realising that Al was just fine. Mostly, she was quiet; content with just being present with him. Sometimes she would hum along to the songs that had played, and sometimes she would chuckle at the sight of Jane dancing around dressed like a walrus, but that was it.

All of a sudden, Rose offered her hand. "Come on."

She led him back to her room where they put on their shoes. Rose put on a jacket and Scorpius found one of Al's jumpers he'd left there previously. They left Jane and Al, but told them that they'd be back soon. Hand-in-hand, they walked out of her building; taking their time as they passed people on the darkening street. It was chilly and a bit windy, but not cold enough for a jacket, but only thanks to warming charms they'd cast before leaving her flat.

They ended up at the corner store not too far where Rose bought Maltesers for them to share while they sat on the steps in front of her building, politely greeting her neighbours who entered and exited, but not saying much else. Scorpius had never been one for sweets, but found it was a good choice after such a long day.

One after the other, they ate in silence while people-watching. They were more dependent on the streetlamps when Rose absently offered the last piece of chocolate. After he accepted, she left briefly to throw the empty package in the rubbish bin next to the steps.

When she settled next to him again, the silence stretched on. It was comfortable, easy, and Scorpius found himself relaxing for the first time in hours with no intention to break the peace that they'd found on the steps overlooking a busy street. But like all things, it came to an end – not with a shout, but a small sigh.

From Rose.

"This week has been like falling from the top of the staircase and hitting every step on the way down."

She wasn't looking at him, but at a woman walking a dog almost as large as her.

"I knew I was hurt – that I'd _been_ hurt," and what caught his attention weren't her words or the honesty in them, but the fact that she'd spoken them voluntary. "But I didn't realise the wound had festered until the bandage was ripped off today. I won't say that I _enjoyed_ what happened today, but it probably needed to happen. All of it." Rose paused to sort her thoughts, letting the breeze pass through them. "But as I'm thinking back on everything, something stands out more than anything else…"

The lampposts were on, illuminating the darkening streets and Rose. He looked over at her, noting how tired but beautiful she looked. How impossibly red her hair looked in the artificial light and how the breeze had left it untamed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her brown eyes were strangely direct, focused on him. Probing.

_Curious_.

"Earlier," she looked down at their hands that were close, but not touching. "After Lily…" she trailed off, face briefly twisting to show how raw she still felt about the entire situation. "Before everyone came through, you were about to say something to me. Do you remember?"

Scorpius hadn't expected the question, but answered nonetheless, "I remember."

"What were you going to say?"

A car stopping at the building across the street caught his attention and he watched as a group of chatty women dressed up for a night out filed out the building and into the car. When the car pulled off, he could almost _feel_ Rose's eyes on him.

She was waiting with a sort of patience she had never been known for having.

And Scorpius felt like he had earlier when he'd knelt in front of her and tried to speak his truth: nervous as hell, but knowing he _had_ to answer her question. In that moment, he thought about Jane's words; about how if he kept speaking, maybe she would interpret his language.

Perhaps the fact that she was asking questions meant that she was already trying to.

So, he took the advice of the strangest witch he'd met since Luna Scamander. It wasn't the most sensible things he'd ever done, but they were far beyond that. The only direction he could move in was forward. He couldn't look back and agonise; couldn't wait and hypothesise about the future implications of his current actions. All he could do was concentrate on the present; on looking her in the eyes and speaking his truth.

"I was going to say that," he reverently touched the tips of her fingers with his own. "To me, you're everything I've ever wanted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: How's quarantine treating everyone? Hope everyone is staying safe. Sorry for the delay, but this chapter was a beast and a half to write. It's far longer than usual because there was no way I would be able to split it up. I'd suggest reading it more than once because there's so much going on. But that's life, ya know. I think I've read through it about fifty times to make sure it was all right.
> 
> So uh, so much. Scorpius' evolving thoughts on love and the changes in Rose and Scorpius' dynamic; how it's still charged, but the charge is different. Deeper, but also more physical. Rose really doesn't know how to handle the changes and we see her struggle throghout the entire chapter. Which leads to the next thing: confrontation with Lily, which was a long time coming. Unavoidable. Let's remember that Lily is 19 in this fic, and she's a bit immature and aggressive in a way because she's spoiled and used to getting her way. Not to mention, she's been wanting Scorpius for a long time and witnesses her cousin snogging him so she feel justified to come at her the way she did. And Rose really showed a level of patience she hadn't shown thus far; shown some of the changes she's made thus far. Family fight are far dirtier than fighting anyone else because they know exactly how to hurt you. And Lily came there to hurt her.
> 
> I almost ended the chapter there with everyone coming through the Floo, but my content beta literally called me and yelled at me, so...that's why this chapter is super long.
> 
> I'd always planned the much-needed conversation with Hermione, the true beginning of the repair to their relationship and Rose's journey to heal herself. (Oh, and showing Ron's opinion in all this because through it all, he knows his daughter because she's like him). However, I didn't plan for it to happen after the bomb had been dropped on everything the way it had, but sometimes stories write themselves. Sometimes you have to break someone down all the way in order to piece them back together correctly, and that's what's happening with Rose, who carries her pain so deep she forgets its there until someone digs at her the way Lily knew she could. Also on a lighter note, the exchange with Scorpius and Ron? I was crying laughing. Oh, and as always, I love writing the support she has from her friends. I love Jane. She's such a boss, and so good for Al after his off-screen fight with his sister (that I'll touch on).
> 
> Anyway, stay safe everyone.
> 
> inadaze22


	18. The Butterfly Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Who is the betrayer?  
_ _Who's the killer in the crowd?  
_ _The one who creeps in corridors_   
_And doesn't make a sound_   
**Heavy in Your Arms – Florence + the Machines**

**Chapter Eighteen: The Butterfly Effect**

Rose found it strange how everything was different, but nothing had changed.

People still injured themselves and magic was still being misused; accidents still happened and bad things were still unfairly happening to good people. That was the human condition. It would never change.

Neither did life at the hospital.

Welcome Witches continued to be the unappreciated heartbeat of the hospital. Healers pretended to be above it all, but were still some of the worst gossipmongers in the entire hospital. And, no one dared to upset the Medi-witches or else risk their lives being made hell at work. There were still safety briefings and added security measures, but the lack of deaths had lured everyone into a sense of security where they were ready to call the entire matter an unsolved mystery that they rumoured about.

They were ready to get on with life.

Normally, Rose would have shared the sentiment, but she couldn't.

It was the end of her second full week back at the hospital, and while everything appeared normal – right down to the ease at which she'd fallen back into her routine – things most _definitely_ were not.

The walls could see and hear everything – that hadn't changed – but now, they were watching and listening to her. Rose wasn't a stranger to being watched. It was practically a rite of passage in her family. However, the unapologetic gawking and the open whispering when she walked past were a bit much. Honestly, she had no idea why or what the whispers were about. She'd been cleared in the patient's death investigation; relabelled as a witness. And outside of that, Rose had little else going on that would draw attention.

But Rose didn't care enough to find out. She had, however, take a special sort of joy by brazenly meeting all their stares with ones of her own until they'd avert their eyes or pretend to be working.

But mostly, she ignored them all.

She was practically a professional with _years_ of experience.

It was another thing she and Healer Brown had in common.

On her first day back, a hospital administrator Rose had never seen before stopped by Lavender's office. She had been so busy lamenting about the _obscene_ amount of unorganized paperwork that had stacked up in her absence – paperwork her boss had _refused_ to allow anyone else to handle – that she'd hardly noticed the woman standing in the doorway.

The administrator had welcomed Rose back in one breath, and with the next – in a tone that left no room for interpretation – she told her Healer Brown to keep her on light duty until the initial excitement of her return had passed.

And that had prompted Lavender to bring her to _every_ staff meeting, _every_ consult, and _every_ ward round – not just that day, but _every day_. She had even brought her to Healer Roundtable discussions where assistants were not allowed, and _dared_ anyone to say anything about Rose's presence.

Scorpius found it hilarious.

Henrietta had not.

Oh, and each time they had passed that same administrator in the halls, Lavender would just _smile_ and Rose would wave simply because she was a little shit sometimes.

Okay, most times.

The strange thing was that what started out as a blatant act of defiance quickly turned into Lavender unofficially expanding her job duties. Healer Brown had never been much of a talker while she worked, but on Rose's second day, she began walking her through her Healer tasks, explaining the reasoning behind each action and revealing tricks of the trade that made her job easier.

She began testing Rose's ability to diagnose an ailment, showing her what to look for and how to rule out similar illnesses. And by day four, Lavender was teaching her spells that she had only heard Scorpius mention, and discussing their practical applications. She gave her books and research studies for her to read – with the expectation that there would be a test.

And the tests never stopped.

Healer Brown would ask random yet pertinent questions at the most random of moments and expected an answer immediately. When Rose didn't know the answer, she helped her find it without criticism. When she got the answer correct, Healer Brown would nod in approval or even smile. But most importantly, she would allow Rose to execute her correct answer under her watchful gaze, beaming with pride with each successful spell and diagnosis.

Day by day, her lessons became more intricate; her tests more complicated, but Rose accepted each and every challenge. It was almost as if she were her student, and while she found it all bizarre, she found she had little time to let her mind to wander.

In fact, she was surprised at, well—how much she _enjoyed_ _it._

How much she _still_ was enjoying it.

And _that_ was a major difference.

It was nearly two when they finished seeing patients for the day: the last being a very sick wizard who had been put through _days_ of potions and magical testing, which had only made him worse. They thought he had misused a dangerous spell, which had been the reason for Healer Brown's consult. After shaking her head to every one of Rose's diagnoses, she determined that the patient had an aggressive version of a non-magical illness: the flu.

She ordered pepperup to help his symptoms – as the potion only cured the common cold and not the flu – but Rose quickly noticed the patient's bicorn allergy in his chart and spoke up before it could be administered. In the end, he had to go about recovery without magical assistance, and Lavender saw that he was transferred to the Muggle Maladies ward for proper care.

They were headed back to her office after the consult when her boss said, "Excellent work."

"I just read his chart. Nothing special…" Rose shrugged awkwardly, still not quite sure how to accept praise.

"It's more than your intelligence that makes you smart."

She only blinked in response and asked, "How did you know he had the flu?" Then she remembered. "Oh, _right_, Muggle doctor. You've seen it a lot, then."

They approached the lift and her boss pushed the button because Rose's hands were full. "I've never gone to specifics with anyone, but I was a General Surgeon in the States. In St. Mungo's, it would be something in the vicinity of what Scorpius does in the Trauma ward when he's reattaching Splinched limbs."

"Sounds intense," Rose involuntarily swallowed at the thought. "Why didn't you pick the Trauma ward to work in when you came back?"

Lavender looked thoughtful, if a little hesitant to answer, but she did anyway. "Humans, both with and without magic, are creative with the ways and means they use to hurt each other and themselves. Those with magic use Unforgivable curses, hexes, poisons, and dark artefacts. Those without use guns, knives, and bombs; just to name a few." Her jaw worked several times before she could get her next words out; the move made more dramatic by the distinguished claw marks on her cheek. "I found myself weary from the violence and carnage of it all, and it was hard to detach from it. That was one of the things that prompted me to leave medicine in the first place…"

She stopped talking as a couple of Medi-witches passed by, sneaking glances at them and then whispering to themselves. Giggling. Rose just stared at them, giving _go away_ vibes with her eyebrow raised, until they looked away and down. And if she allowed her eyes to follow them until they disappeared from sight – well, she felt completely justified.

"Scorpius told me you travelled a lot for research," Rose resumed the conversation.

"I did," she replied carefully.

"Neutralising magical objects?" She'd only known that because Scorpius had told her all about their conversation, but he'd also picked up a few books on the topic and scoffed his way through them because he didn't like theoretical magic much.

Okay, _at all_.

Even though he was _always_ reading books on the topic.

Lavender's research topic of choice was theoretical, at best – as it had been derived entirely from books and theories. But there _had_ been a few similar real-life incidents that had been noted. Like when her uncle, parents, and Professor Longbottom had destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes. But that hadn't been so much magical object neutralising and more destroying pieces of his fractured soul.

Scorpius seemed to think that stabbing the dagger with the basilisk fang would have the same desired effect as it had on Tom Riddle's diary and Helga Hufflepuff's cup. However, any sort of attempts at neutralising the dagger wouldn't destroy it; it would just turn it into a regular dagger.

In theory.

"I shouldn't be surprised that he discussed our conversation with you," Lavender shook her head in bemusement, but Rose found herself unable to respond as she was unsure what to say or how to interpret her comment.

Was she upset? Did she care that Scorpius had discussed their chat with her?

Honestly, he hadn't said much; only that they'd talked about her interest in the theoretical topic of deactivating magical objects. Scorpius wanted to bounce ideas off Lavender as it related to what they knew about the dagger and whether it would be possible to neutralise it long enough to get it back to the Department of Mysteries. He'd mentioned it in passing; as casual as he had mentioned the fact that it looked like rain. And Scorpius _certainly_ hadn't divulged anything about the specifics of their conversation or the questions he'd asked that obviously resonated with her boss.

Rose snuck a glance at Lavender, mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. Lavender's armour was hard; tough as Goblin Silver, and further toughened by scars, trauma, and years of experiences.

All of which had sculpted her into a person who was incredibly hard to read.

"Whenever I tell people about my travels," Lavender continued slowly. "They're more curious about the things I've seen and done; the cultural magic I'd learned. But not Scorpius Malfoy_. What are you trying to cure?_ That's what he asked. Did he tell you about that?" When Rose dumbly shook her head in response, Lavender chuckled joylessly. "I wasn't a target of his father's at school, but Draco Malfoy always knew just what to say to get a rise out of someone. In that way, I suppose Scorpius is more like his father than not."

Rose found herself standing up straighter, ready to defend him. "He's not like that. He's—"

"I know," her boss said in response, patting her shoulder with an expression that – thanks to her scars and claw marks – seemed harsher than her words. "But he asked a good question and it shocked me, if I'm being honest."

And though she never involved herself in anyone's business, as she had enough going on in her life, Rose still found herself asking: "So, what's the answer to his good question?"

"It's complicated, as a lot of things in life often are."

Rose wouldn't disagree with that, given the last month and a half of her life.

"I find that the answer to that question changes every day."

_What did that mean?_

"I suppose you can say that I was running away from my problems by travelling, but I didn't get very far. Problems have a tendency to follow you wherever you go…in one way or another."

Rose understood that all too well.

"Why did you leave Medicine?" she found herself asking randomly.

"I wanted to help people who were in the same situation that I'd been in – barely holding on to life with no hope. I wanted to find atonement through saving them. I did not."

Out of the millions of questions running around in her head, she blurted out the first that came to mind: "Atonement for what?"

Lavender bristled at the question, but then she sighed, watching as the arrow moved to the next number, indicating the lift was on its way to pick them up. "There's a certain type of clarity that's found in the moment between life and death," she told her, voice brittle. "When I woke up everyone kept asking me if I remembered anything, but I still don't to this day. Everything happened too fast…"

Her boss looked to the left, then right, before focusing on the shut doors. Her face was a mask of stone, but her voice betrayed her struggle and spoke of her complex feelings.

"But I do remember thinking, _knowing_ that I was going to die. Even after your mother saved me, I laid there, completely aware and accepting of my fate…" she trailed off as the air around them seemed to thicken to the point where Rose momentarily held her breath, before releasing it with a small shudder, feeling cold inside. "But here I am. _Alive_."

She didn't sound particularly happy about it, and it was oddly morbid how Rose understood her right then. Not that she had been through _anything_ of the sort – not even close, but Lavender hadn't asked for what had happened to her. And more than that, she sounded trapped; locked in a cage of emotion she couldn't break out of.

Well, Rose could relate.

And _that_ was why she was seeing a therapist every Tuesday.

But as she snuck glances at her boss, she found herself wondering if Lavender _wanted_ freedom or if she preferred the safety and the familiarity of the cage. The thought made Rose swallow thickly, turning back to the files in her arms that she counted. Right then, numbers soothed her, calmed her thoughts. Helped her focus.

Everything remained silent until Rose felt like she _had_ to say something. So, she croaked out a statement that would have irritated her had she been in her boss's shoes. "You got lucky."

It had _seemed_ like the correct response, _but it wasn't._

"Lucky isn't a word I'd use to describe my survival."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for the doors to open.

"What word would you use?"

"The butterfly effect that keeps on rippling." The doors opened and they stepped on together. Lavender waited until the doors shut before pressing the correct number. The lift started moving.

The tension of their conversation thus far had all but settled into Rose's bones, which could easily be blamed for her next blurted question. "Like the multi-verse?"

Lavender's scarred cheek twitched in what almost looked like a smirk, which was a far cry from the frown she'd been sporting. Rose could literally _feel_ the storm cloud over them dissipate as the tension eased.

She exhaled her relief.

"I like you, Rose."

Honestly, she didn't know how to respond to that so she remained silent.

The lift moved slowly between the floors and Rose took to watching the moving dial rather than her boss. "When your mother asked me to take you on, I was hesitant, but I was out of Assistants that were willing to work with me. She said you weren't easy, but you were worth it." At that, Rose finally looked at her as she adjusted the files in her arms. "She was right, you know, but Hermione often is."

She gave a half-hearted shrug, allowing her mind to wander to the nearly daily conversations she'd had with her mother since that evening in her kitchen. Conversations where Rose had learned that while her mum was right about most things, she still could be wrong sometimes, too.

And that was fine.

_More than fine._

They had small dialogues over tea where her mum had shared her own personal struggles, and Rose had confessed more of her own. They had longer conversations while she braided Rose's hair where she felt safe enough to vent about her frustrations with everything and with herself; a place where her mum had listened instead of attempting to fix her. Rose told her mother about her fight with Lily, but not _every_ detail of what had led to it. The conversation had left her tender enough for her to air more grievances than she'd known she felt. Things she'd buried. Covered. Ignored.

They pushed and pulled, but also listened to each other.

They laughed and cried, but also taught each other.

And somewhere in-between, they found a balance they'd never had before.

It was tenuous, but held steady.

Each conversation helped them to get to know each other, not just as mother and daughter, but as humans. They realised that, as people, they were more alike than different; both stubborn and struggling to adjust to the changes occurring in their own lives. And more than that, they were both willing to tear down the walls and barriers between them in order to build a sturdy bridge of reconciliation that would take them towards a better relationship.

Her mum had _finally_ acknowledged the personal growth Rose had already made; the small changes she hadn't noticed because she'd been too focused on the overall picture. And Rose – well, she stood in her shoes as a mother whose daughter had never given her much to work with; understanding her concerns and fears on a different level.

It didn't mean that everything was suddenly perfect. There were things they still needed to work through, disagreements to process. Their relationship was under construction, but they both were willing to do the work to finish the project.

"You would make a brilliant Healer, you know," Lavender confessed after they exited the lift on her floor, and Rose didn't mind the change in subject. "I know you don't want the responsibility, but it's unavoidable…whether you end up here or in another career."

Rose understood that on a fundamental level, but had only thought of Healing once as a career choice. When she was seven. Then she changed her mind.

Healing was something Scorpius had gained interest in over the years. He'd never expressed it outright, but Rose knew that his interest initially had a lot to do with Astoria's illness and his quiet desperation to revert her back into the mother he'd so fondly remembered. As he grew older, his reasons had evolved as his interest morphed, but he never strayed too far from Healing – much to the dismay of his mother's family.

Rose enjoyed her job, but that had a lot to do with the her oftentimes difficult boss and her prickliness. But she was doing a thing where she was expanding her mind, considering things she hadn't even fathomed.

"I _do_ enjoy this, but give me some time to think it over, all right?" Healer Brown just looked at her, eyebrow raised. "I just don't think I'm ready to make a decision. Not now."

She _would_ think about it. At some point.

Her boss seemed to understand what Rose was trying to convey, and gave her a short nod. "How _are_ you doing?" Lavender asked with the slightest hint of concern in her voice. Rose would have missed it had she not been paying attention. "Jane didn't want to be betray your confidence, but she gave a slight indication that your Ministry Inquiry didn't go so well. I thought I'd ask you myself."

"That's an understatement," she snorted. "But how am I doing? I'm settling into things…" Rose trailed off, adjusting the stack of patient files in her hands.

"I mean, outside of work. Mentally."

She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but her boss gave her a look, which changed her mind. "Things are…exactly the same, but different."

And that was the best she could do.

It had been a true statement, made even more so by her first therapy appointment on Tuesday. She'd done her own research, got some advice from Uncle Harry after a duelling lesson, then narrowed her options down until she found one not too far from work. Scorpius had gone with her because he wasn't busy, and he sat in the waiting area with a book on theoretical magic until she finished.

Then they had Italian with Jane, Al, and Quincy because nothing cured raw feelings like carbs.

But she was going to go back.

"Sounds about right." Lavender opened the door to her office with a wave of her wand, gesturing for Rose to enter first. She did, depositing the patient charts on the first clean surface she could find – not that there were many.

Her boss was notorious for being rather blasé about anything she found mundane, so her file documentation was always behind. Rose had spent an entire week of afternoons organising all the loose parchment while fussing at Lavender each time she tried to leave before she'd caught herself up.

That week, however, she'd started leaving it to Rose.

It really had been for the best.

She'd expected Lavender to sit at her desk and continue reading through the latest in research that interested her, but her boss grabbed her bag out of her bottom drawer. And then her jacket.

Rose's eyebrow shot up. "Going somewhere?"

Because Lavender rarely went anywhere for lunch.

"I'm going for lunch with a few friends," Lavender said casually, which made Rose blink rapidly in surprise. She'd hardly ever mentioned anything about her friends.

Or family, now that she thought about it.

Rose knew that she had them.

In theory.

Well, sort of.

Her mother had died after a short illness and she'd mentioned her father once, but Rose got the impression that, while she'd returned at her father's insistence, she wasn't close to her dad as he had expectations of her that she hadn't fulfilled. As far as her friends, her mum mentioned she had been best friends with the Fitness Guru, Parvarti Patil, while in school. But that was it.

"Oh, I—"

"I _do_ have friends, Rose," her boss smirked. "And sometimes, I _do_ have lunch with them."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I was just going to invite you to lunch, that's all, but since you have plans…"

"Lunch with you and Scorpius?" Lavender deadpanned. "I rather like _not_ being a third wheel."

Rose made a face. "Third wheel?"

She gave her a pointed look. "I'm not blind, you know."

"Umm…"

"There are whispers about you."

"I'm aware," Rose scowled in annoyance, then sighed. "I'll bite. What are they saying about me? Actually, _I'll guess_. There's the fact that I was at the centre of a murder investigation."

Lavender gave her a look that spoke volumes, but offered nothing. She glanced at her watch, twiddling her fingers as she visibly calculated how much time she had to make it on time while Rose chuckled in amusement. Her boss seemed to figure that she still had enough time and actually _sat in her chair_ before gesturing for Rose to do the same. "You should have a seat for this."

"No thanks."

Shrugging, she folded her hands in front of her; her body language screaming that she was trying to break hard news to her. "The rumours are actually about you and Scorpius…"

Rose just blinked.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, _and_?"

Lavender gave her an odd, but humoured look as if she were speaking to a particularly stubborn patient. "Okay, I'll continue on. I generally don't care about rumours as I've been the subject of them since my return last summer, but it's hard to ignore it when people outright ask you about your assistant and—"

"This is about when I broke his nose." The look on Lavender's face shifted from amused to perplexed, as she mouthed the words: _broke his nose?_ Rose sighed, deeply regretting even asking the question that led them down that particular avenue. She couldn't believe that they were _still_ going on about that. _Honestly_. People didn't have anything better to gossip about? "Yes, I _broke his nose_, but people thought we were snogging. I actually fell on his face."

There was a beat of silence before loud laughter rang out in the small office. It was high-pitched and jarring in its candidness; showing more of Lavender's smile than she'd ever seen before. She looked ten years younger, scars and all, but the fact that they'd cycled through at least three emotions during their conversation didn't make up for the fact that Rose was irritated by her delight at the catalyst for everything that had happened between her and Scorpius.

"It's old news," a sulking Rose said when her boss's laughter had _finally_ subsided. "I haven't gotten a Howler in _weeks_."

"Parvarti would _never_ believe me, but I think I'll keep this to myself. For now."

She shrugged because it was the truth. "I don't care what you do with it. _That's_ what happened. Not what the press reported." And mercifully, their _actual_ snog hadn't been captured by anyone. _Neither one of them._ Bloody hell, had any of that been captured, the media would be _relentless_. Rose shuddered at the thought, but pretended that it had to do with her next statement. "All those Howlers for _nothing_. Scorpius had to use _four_ cleaning charms to get the scorch marks out my carpet."

"You made _him_ clean up the Howlers?"

Rose blinked at her slowly. "_Of course_. We had an agreement."

Lavender blinked. "He has the patience of an oyster."

Which was accurate, but not necessarily relevant to the conversation.

"About the talking walls," Rose made no point to hide her impatience. "What about them?"

"Since you're so anxious to know," Lavender gave her a pointed look when she scoffed loudly at the remark. "Word to the wise, Rose: _everyone_ has a reputation in this hospital, even you. Yours has little to do with your family or that the Muggle Maladies _ward_ named after you."

Something she _constantly_ tried to forget about. "What does it have to do with, then?"

Her boss started listing them, adding a finger for each point: "You never use your name to get ahead, you're good at what you do without trying, you nap in the tea room after your shift, and you eat all the free snacks."

_All true._

"_Oh_," Lavender snapped her finger with a tiny shake of her head as if she had just remembered something important. "One more thing: you're _always_ in close proximity to the Medi-Witches' favourite Level Two Healer." Which stopped Rose – who had started sorting through files during her second point – in her tracks. "You know him, right?" her tone turned sarcastic – like it had been with that administrator. "Blond hair, blue eyes, and about one hundred and seventy-five centimetres tall, per Witch Weekly. He's best friends with your cousin and the sole Malfoy heir."

"I'm best friends with him, as well," Rose argued weakly, knowing she sounded every bit as uncertain as she felt.

"_Sure_ you are," was her dry-as-the-desert response.

With a scowl, she shot back, "You think you're funny, but you're not."

"I'm _hilarious_," Lavender deadpanned, leaning forward, resting her hands on her desk; her voice almost playful in its sarcasm. "Just like you're hilarious if you don't think people have noticed the fact that you come in and leave with him…_every single day_."

"Oh."

Well.

There wasn't much Rose could say in her own defence.

Scorpius was—well, _Scorpius_. Not to mention, another one of those things that hadn't changed, but was entirely different. It was difficult to explain, and she'd hoped to go on for a long time without having speak aloud on those differences. But it didn't seem like that was going to happen.

_To me, you're everything I've ever wanted._

Rose would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about his words or the weight they carried.

Because she did.  
_Often_.

His words had been simple. Direct. There'd been little room to misinterpret their meaning or the feelings attached to them. And that made them _heavy_. Distracting. Overwhelming. Their weight had made her legs weak and threw off her natural stride of blissful unawareness.

_Now_, she was aware, but not so much as to where the _hell any of that had come from_.

Perhaps the heaviness of his words had to do with the fact Rose never had a chance to respond in any way – _not that she could_. All she could recall in the aftermath were the sounds of passing cars, barking dogs, and footsteps of strangers on the concrete. But louder than all of those noises had been the hammering of her own heart, the swell of that odd feeling from before, followed by the sudden onslaught of emotions she _still_ couldn't process.

Not that any of it mattered.

One moment, Scorpius was speaking, the next he was pressing his lips against her forehead in a kiss so soft she thought she'd imagined it, and then Rose was alone on the front steps of her building, blinking and breathing hard like she'd taken three stunners to the chest.

Because _what.  
__The fuck._

For the last two weeks, Rose had gone through several stages of shock, swaying back and forth from disbelief to outright denial like a pendulum with no horizon to ground it. How in _the hell_ was she supposed to respond? Did he even _want_ a response? _What_ should she think? How should she act? _How_ should she feel? What the hell was she _supposed_ _to feel? _She couldn't possibly be everything Scorpius had ever wanted when she was – well, _who she was_ as a person. Rose was only_ just_ hanging on; a barely functioning mess of anxiety, insecurities, flaws, and freshly open wounds she still needed to patch up.

To come from a family like his, Scorpius was the least chaotic person she knew; as consistent as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. He never waffled or stirred. He made clear and rational decisions. He never strayed or wandered. Scorpius was every bit a creature of habit who had gone to the school of certainty.

And yes, Lily's words might have been crass, but they weren't _completely_ untrue.

Rose was none of those things.

She was messy, challenging, and sometimes too much of a lot of things for her own good. She knew how to take something effortless (like her friendship with Scorpius) and muddy up the waters; whether on accident or on purpose. She was stubborn and set in her ways, but also fickle, which made no sense, but she didn't _always_ make sense. Some days Rose felt like she had made real progress, but other days she was pretty certain she'd regressed back to childhood.

She wasn't a logical choice, nor was she a sure thing.

Rose knew perfectly well that she never would fit into his future as the head of his family; would never be comfortable with the traditional formality of it all; the galas, charity events, and social posturing.

Hell, she _still_ got anxious to the point of light-headedness under the lights and flashing cameras.

More than any of that – because she had _no right_ to even think those thoughts – she _barely_ knew what _she_ wanted. How could she take on the role and responsibilities of being everything _he_ wanted? Rose had no answers for any of those questions. She could barely made sense of _anything_ because _nothing_ made sense anymore.

And _that_ had been her most prevalent thought over the last two weeks.

Truth be told, his words had been so nonsensical that Rose honestly had half the mind to ignore everything he'd said with a litany of justifications, blame it on a moment of sentimental insanity, and dismiss it all as lip service.

And she'd tried.  
_Honestly tried._

On every single replay, Rose would scoff her disbelief and voice her own theories about his behaviour.

_No_, he didn't mean it like that.

He was trying to make her feel better.

He was trying to ease the pain of the verbal blows Lily had landed.

Because he was her friend and friends said things like that to cheer each other up. Right?

_Right?_

So, Rose swept up his words to throw them away, but as she stood over the rubbish, she found herself stuck. Found that she _couldn't_ throw them away. Couldn't forget them.

It might have been the sound of his voice, hushed and intense in the near darkness. It might have been his eyes and how calm and steady they were; how they looked directly into hers as if he had nothing to hide. It might have been how, in the midst of her justifications of his words, she found herself comparing his actions that night to all his previous ones and not finding any difference. It might have been the tender way he'd kissed her on his birthday and how his self-control had all but collapsed outside the Burrow. It might have been the way he'd touched her fingertips as he spoke; how he was always so careful and aware of her. It might have been all those things and more – other intangible thoughts and actions that were beyond her limited comprehension of emotions that were more complicated than baseline emotions like happiness, sadness, and anger.

Rose didn't know.

All she _did_ know was one thing:

No matter how ludicrous his words were or how little sense they made, she actually_ believed him_.

But that hadn't made anything less strange or easier. Or less terrifying. He'd been honest with her, but so what? What did that mean in the grand scheme of things? Everything he'd wanted? Of all the witches in the world, why _her_? Rose had no idea. But constantly hammering of his words in her head _had_ made her think. Reflect. Look again at that funny unknown feeling that was still sitting on the front row of her mind; the feeling that had been annoying the ever-living _shit_ out of her for _weeks_.

"Nothing to say?" Lavender looked supremely amused.

The files in her hand were supremely important. "I think I'll have these done before I leave."

Was it hot in there? Rose was literally sweating.

Her boss leaned back in her chair. "You're not as good at avoidance as you think you are. The rumours will be waiting for you to pull your head out the sand, so to speak."

The rumours?

Well, they weren't exactly…_erroneous_.

For the most part.

Scorpius _had_ started coming in early with her and leaving when her shift ended, but that had to do with his strong work ethic and determination not to get behind on anything because of the training classes that occupied half of his day. And well, despite her struggle with carrying the weight of his words around; despite her fickle and complicated feelings on the entire matter, Scorpius hadn't pushed the issue and she hadn't pushed him away.

Not that she could, but whatever.

In fact, by the time she'd recovered enough from her shock to go back to her flat, she'd found everything put away, Al and Jane gone, the clothes on her bed and chair folded and put away, and Scorpius changed and asleep…

In her bed.

And she'd been emotionally worn out enough to take off her shoes, turn off the lights, and climb in next to him.

From that night on, they'd fallen into a silent routine. They left work together, and spent their evenings how they normally would. Alone, together, or somewhere in between where they spent time with their friends. There were still game and movie nights. Now that it was warmer, Scorpius and Al had started playing Quidditch with some of their mates after work. She'd had multiple dinners with her parents where they had Hugo on video call because they all missed him sorely – even though he was happy in Italy. Two days ago, Jane, in need of fresh air, had dragged them all on an evening boat ride on the Thames where they watched the sunset and drank wine.

There were all sorts of different activities on different nights, but the constant in her life was that after everything was done, Scorpius came through the Floo and stayed the night.

Every night.

And honestly, as convoluted as their dynamic had been and how fatigued she'd been from carrying his words around, she hadn't slept as well in _weeks_.

On the very first night, the sleep she'd fallen into had been so consuming that she hadn't woken up until Scorpius started complaining about her possessed alarm clock – which often set itself for ungodly hours. Thanks to her mum. Rose had learned how to sleep through it, but not Scorpius. It had woken them up so early the morning after her fight with Lily that he'd decided to go for a run before sunrise.

Then he'd had the _nerve_ to drag her out of bed to go with him.

But after bickering and complaining – oh, and the fact that he'd _physically_ dragged _her_ along with the sheets, comforter, _and_ pillows out of bed – she found herself a willing participant in his insanity that morning…

And every morning thereafter.

Scorpius liked running because it was simple; just them, their kits and trainers, and the great outdoors of whatever trail he'd Apparate them to in moments of spontaneity he'd never been known for.

Or maybe he'd asked Teddy because his cousin enjoyed nature. She wasn't sure.

Because Scorpius wasn't a habitual runner – preferring Quidditch and swimming for exercise – he wasn't particularly gifted in speed. Which worked well for Rose on their first two days of jogging because she ran like an newly born fawn, constantly tripping over her own two feet and bumping into trees she should have seen; going batshit whenever a bug flew into her face and screaming whenever a spiderweb brushed against any part of her body.

It took six runs for her to stop asking him to leave her there to die, and two more for her to notice the difference in her mood throughout the day. Yoga and meditation with Jane were much easier. Channelling that focus she had during her runs while duelling with her uncle had earned her more points and proud looks. Rose found herself feeling less stressed and anxious. Stronger and more connected. She slept better and hadn't had as many nightmares.

No, she couldn't keep up with Scorpius in any capacity, but he never left her behind. And yes, she spent more time looking at his back as he ran in front of her, but she didn't even have to carry the weight of his words with her.

They rarely talked; only speaking long enough to agree on a stopping point as they both preferred to wear headphones and listen to music synched from an ever-growing playlist Rose had made from a phone she hardly ever used.

It was peacefully picturesque, even in the hour before dawn, and Rose found herself enjoying the end of their runs when they both were flushed, sweaty, aching, and the front of Scorpius' hair would hilariously stand on end – to his complete annoyance. They would walk together to cool down, listening to music with softer beats and hypnotic synthesizers that made her feel present and in the moment with him as they watched the sun peek over the horizon from a different vantage points each day until it was time for them to Apparate back.

The rumours?

Well, they likely had to do with the fact that even though they went back to their separate flats to shower and dress for the day, Scorpius always came through to make breakfast. Just coffee, eggs, toast with jam and butter, and a green protein smoothie he swore had no vegetables, but he was a lying liar that _lied_.

But it wasn't so bad – not that she would ever tell him.

After breakfast, Rose would scramble to get ready and rather than go back to his flat, Scorpius came in with her so he could get some work done in the quiet hours before his office-mates showed up.

And if anyone had seen them coming out of the Floo together each morning, she hadn't noticed.

Lavender was still staring at her expectantly, and maybe Rose's looks were more expressive than she thought because all she said in response was: "That seems complicated, but matters of those kinds always are, more so when combined with insecurities and fear. I suggest you work through whatever is going on in your head."

She may as well have told her to climb the Himalayas in the middle of an avalanche.

Impossible and dangerous.

What was going on in her head was incomprehensible at times.

It felt bigger than her.

The questions stretched higher than the mountains; the answer further than the stars.

"Uh, thanks for the advice," Rose said dryly. "I've got a lot to sort through." She cleared her throat. "_Parchment_, I mean."

"_Parchment_," Lavender repeated in the same tone.

She kept her next sarcastic response to herself to show just how much she'd grow as a person.

Only just barely.

Under Lavender's watchful gaze, Rose gathered all the files she'd intended to document on during lunch with Scorpius – who undoubtedly would be doing the same – and was about to find her favourite quill when her boss abruptly said, "You're not as lost as you think you are. Not about anything."

Which made her look up because, _yes_, she was pretty fucking lost.

"You just need to find your point of reference, but in order to do that, you'll first need to take off the blindfold you've been wearing and clear your mind of all the clutter. You'll never see what's in front of you until you do."

Lavender glanced at her watch again as she rose to her feet and walked around the desk to where Rose stood, clutching her quill in her fist and the files to her chest.

"I think that the only person holding you back is yourself. Deep down, under all that rubbish, you know what you want, but you won't allow yourself to entertain the thought of actually getting it." She looked away, trying to see if there was something she was leaving behind. Her boss kept talking anyway, "You're scared, which is okay. It's normal to have fears and worries; it's okay to doubt yourself and not understand everything. But it's not okay to let those things keep you from committing to the idea that you—"

Rose interjected with a snort. "I'm sure you know _all_ about my commitment issues."

Probably from her mum.

"From my own observations, yes."

And that shut her right up.

"I used to find it odd that you were sorted into Slytherin. You have a lot of their qualities, but they're rather _motivated_, and you—well, it took a while, but then I realised that you're just selective with yours."

"I aspired to exert as little effort as possible, to not care what people think, and to be left alone."

Lavender's eyebrow lifted. "How's that working for you?"

She almost bristled at the question because _ouch, that hurt_.

"It's not," Rose confessed with a scowl.

It _hadn't_ been working for her, especially not as of late. The more she thought about it – because her therapist had planted the seed during her first session – the more Rose understood the flaws in her way of thinking.

In refusing to exert any effort, she'd buried too much – too quick – beneath a foundation too weak and flimsy to handle the weight; and due to her own neglect, all it took was a little digging to create the sinkhole she'd fallen into. In refusing to care about what people thought of her, she'd rebelled against human nature itself and lied to herself in the process. She _cared_ about what those closest to her thought of her – more than she'd realised – and how she'd felt when Lily had thrown their family's opinion of her into the argument had shown her just that. In wanting to be left alone, she'd failed to understand the full reality of it.

"I thought so," and though Lavender had her arms folded across her chest in a way that made her appear patronising, her tone was anything but. "When something stops working for you, it's important to know when to let it go. I think you're past that point. What do you think?"

She had a point, but Rose was too stubborn to utter the words aloud.

Not that it mattered, because Lavender tilted her head to the side and smirked. "You should work to find a new normal that'll work for the person you're becoming, even if you don't know who she is yet. I'm not telling you that you need to hurry up. Where you are is part of your journey that's specifically yours, but it's also important to not let yourself get lost in the weeds and stuck on the particulars. Doubt, fear, anxiety. They aren't _always_ negative. Feeling that way can mean that you're not content with staying where you are; that you're _trying_. And because you're trying, it means that you care more than you're willing to admit to yourself. It means that you _want_."

She looked down at her feet. Better than looking at Lavender, who was speaking words she found herself wanting to listen to and comprehend, but understanding made her chest feel odd.

"It's okay to have wants, Rose. It's also okay to be scared of wanting something." Lavender rested her hand on her shoulder, gently asking, "What do _you_ want?"

And that was too complicated of a question to answer on an empty stomach.

"Whatever it is," her tone was gentler than Rose had ever heard before from her boss, which was bizarre because she didn't _look_ soft because of her scarred face. "I find there's a different sort of thrill in doing something that scares you."

Rose snorted. "Says the Gryffindor."

"Says the _human_," she corrected with a serious, but fond look on her face.

"Well, _this_ human's brain hurts from all the thinking I've had to do," she tried to joke, but it fell flat.

"My advice: don't be afraid to think out loud and ask the questions that are obviously weighing so heavily on your mind. Don't be afraid to speak about your own feelings, good or bad. Chances are, you aren't the only one who feels the way you do. You're not the only one who's confused and scared. Even the most dependable people are afraid and self-conscious. Logical people sometimes have to take a leap on nothing but faith alone. And those we think are confident may experience negative emotions – like doubt and uncertainty – that can cloud their judgment. Their fears may be different from yours, or maybe even the same, but they _are_ there nonetheless."

Rose met her gaze finally, taking a deep breath before she did so. "I'll think about it."

"See that you do."

* * *

Scorpius was waiting for her in the empty lounge area where they normally met for lunch, standing and checking his watch instead of already seated with his hummus, cucumber, and tomato sandwich out.

Or whatever vegetarian creation he had come up with that morning.

Today, he didn't have any files with him, which caught her attention _second_. The first being the fact that he was no longer dressed in Healer robes, but grey trousers, a white button-down shirt, and a black tie. More formal than his normal casual attire, which likely meant something to do with his parents. He'd gone home to change, and judging from the single container of what smelled like some form of chicken, he had returned with food.

For her.

He looked up when she was close, smiling as he adjusted his glasses with a flick of his finger. "Hey."

"Hey." Reflexively, Rose smiled back as she sat the files down on the table. "What's going on?"

"I'm having lunch with my parents," the smile on his face slid off like paint on a wet canvas; his lack of amusement very clear with his next statement, "My mother's birthday is Sunday."

Ah.

Well, Rose knew it was coming, as it was two days before her Uncle George's birthday.

March was almost over?  
Well, _good riddance._

While her uncle's birthday had always been a brilliant family and friends only affair, it was the exact opposite of his mother's celebration that was a rather public affair. Astoria had _always_ celebrated her birthday in a weekend-long extravaganza of dinners, parties, and activities – no matter what day of the week her actual birthday fell on. It was better that it would fall during the celebratory weekend that year, as she would plan _more_ activities on her actual birthday if it had fallen during the week.

Her reason for such overindulgence had a lot to do with her half-life due to her blood illness, and not knowing if it would be her last. Besides, she'd survived _far_ longer than any Healer had projected and that alone seemed like a good reason to celebrate lavishly.

It made sense in a morbid way.

Scorpius was generally tolerant of her elaborate festivities; if quietly exasperated with the entire event before it had even started as it shook him too far out of his routine. Based on the grim look on his face, that year wasn't going to be any different. The activities he enjoyed – as his mother had a tendency to do 'bucket list' activities that were entertaining. Al and Scorpius had thoroughly enjoyed hot air balloon racing last year with Scorpius' cousins – something Rose would not have liked even if she _had_ been invited.

She was terrified of heights.

But the parties and formal dinners? Well, Scorpius had _never_ liked parties, preferring books to most people. And at parties there were always too much going on. Too many people. Too many airs he had to keep. And navigating a dinner with the Greengrass and Malfoy families, from Rose's limited experience, was about as simple as alchemy.

The two families didn't agree on _anything_.

Well, except for the fact that Scorpius had been the best thing to come from the union.

"I'll see you Sunday night after it's all over. I'm sure there will be _stories_," she chuckled, stepping closer to him to straighten his tie. He smelled nice, Rose noted absently, like soap, books, and something spicy yet familiar.

Scorpius cleared his throat. "_Actually_, my mother personally invited you to attend this year."

"_What!_" Rose's hand went rogue. That was the only excuse she had for why she yanked on his tie like it was a damn _leash_ on a wild animal. Scorpius, unprepared for the sudden tugging, stumbled forward, flailing as he lost his balance. He grabbed blindly at her to keep them both upright, only barely managing to succeed in his mission. His hands were gripping her pink assistant robes; his face far closer than it should be.

Oops.

Suddenly, Rose understood what a bug felt like when it got caught in a spider's web. She found herself stuck under his unreadable gaze, unable to move; a fountain of unidentifiable craziness bubbling inside of her. Which was…different. Weird. She could feel his breath on her; feel the heat radiating off him like it did when he slept. The weight of his eyes on her were about as heavy as his words had been, so she took to staring at his nose and eyebrows instead of his blue eyes.

Or his mouth.

What. The. Hell.

"You can let go now," his voice was too low; his tone so calm he almost sounded expressionless.

Even when his face wasn't.

Even when he was looking at her with eyes she couldn't read.

Rose released him immediately. "Sorry."

With a shrug, Scorpius smoothed down his tie and shirt, but didn't step back like she'd expected. He stayed in her space. Or was it his space because she'd tugged him into it? Rose wasn't sure about anything, except his proximity and the little voice in the back of her head that repeated his words to her constantly.

_To me, you're everything I've ever wanted._

Damn it to hell.

"You're not serious about your mum's invitation, right?" That was all she could think of to say in that moment. Because while Al and some of his dormmates went every year, Rose had _never_ been invited – not that she _wanted_ to be around his mother any more than she had to be. "She's never liked me."

"I'm aware. However, she _was_ serious," and that was something he _clearly_ found suspicious as hell, judging from the look on his face. "I'm certain you'll find an owl with an invitation when you get home today."

"_It's a trap._"

He'd _clearly_ missed her joke because he didn't roll his eyes or smile. "I know, I'm not forcing you to come." Scorpius said evenly, mouth briefly turned in a frown until he glanced at her.

Only then did his eyes soften into something that oddly tugged at her in a way she didn't understand. Even though she _tried_, she found the answer was just outside her realm of comprehension. Still, she watched him closely as he spoke, biting back her own frustration and registering what she could…

Like his expression that was both unreadable and open, which made no sense, but did, in a way that spoke to who Scorpius was as a person. He was mulling over something pretty hard, but wasn't ready to give anything away. Not just yet. It was a look she'd seen a lot over the last two weeks. And, well, _actually_. Now that she was seeing it so clearly – because he was standing so damn _close_ – Rose realised that she'd seen the look long before that.

_Months_ before.  
No, _years_.

Rose sometimes had no reason behind some of her actions; especially those concerning Scorpius as of late. _Seriously_. It annoyed her, but she'd made peace with the decisions she'd made that had ended up complicating their friendship. Sort of. In a way.

It wasn't spontaneity or an impulse that made her ask her next question, but rather a little nudge that awkwardly propelled her forward. "Do you want me there?" she asked almost in a whisper, lowering her head to look down at her hands.

Then her feet.

Then off to the side because she was busy wondering why the _hell_ she was speaking so softly when he was right _there_.

Well, perhaps that was the reason.

Scorpius reached for her hands that was at her side; his fingertips brushing against her wrist. The action made her look up at him, eyes slightly wide. "Do you want to be there?" he asked in a voice just as soft.

And that was enough to make Rose shove aside the weird mood she'd found herself in right then, cutting her eyes at him. "_Oi!_ You just answered my question _with a question_. Are you _trying_ to be difficult?"

Scorpius used every bit of smugness that he'd inherited from his father to smirk and lean in just a bit more, which made Rose angle her head to meet his amusement with a glare and some eye squinting of her own. "You never _did_ like getting a taste of your own medicine."

Familiar alarms started going off in Rose's head. There was something in his eyes, and the way he was speaking to her. His inflection was full of satisfaction, his eyes expressive, and his smile seemed almost cheeky. Just when she was within reach of whatever had tripped the alarm in the first place, his face returned to his default look of calm focus.

Which made Rose blink at him wildly.

"Trap or not, I'd like you to be there." Rose had noticed the fact that lately, he'd taken to making eye-contact when he was trying to emphasise his point; when he wanted her to see his sincerity. And he was doing it right then. "Al is bringing Jane, so you won't be alone with my family at any point." Which wasn't so much the issue, as she could handle his family, but she wouldn't mind Jane's serene but direct comments about her observations.

Besides, not _everyone_ in his family was intolerable.

They had enough drama amongst themselves that they had little time to focus on her.

"I invited Quincy because, with everyone else coming, I didn't want him to feel left out," he was no longer looking at her but rather at his own hands. "And since Henrietta is coming without a plus one, I asked him if he could escort her—"

"Lovely," and she left it at that.

Scorpius looked at her, brow raised.

Well, wait a minute.

Rose thought about what he'd _actually_ said, aside from the fact that she would be trapped in an enclosed space with not one, but _two_ witches that didn't care much for her. Attending meant she would be expected to not lose her temper. At all. Which was a lot harder than it looked. Perhaps, Jane could come over with those Tibetan Bowls beforehand to cleans her energy or whatever. Fix her Chi. Meditate. Hum. Pray. Whatever it took.

However, she had one last question: "If Quincy is Henrietta's escort, who am I going to being as my plus one?" Rose asked offhandedly. "I suppose I can ask James or Louis. Teddy's bringing Victoire, obviously. But wait. Fred's coming home for his dad's birthday, maybe he can come with me." Which would be _perfect_ because Fred would keep her laughing with his hilariously perfect impressions of everyone there.

"Well, I was thinking—"

Rose was still on her train of thought. "I'll need _someone_ with me that'll keep me sane."

"_I'll_ be there."

She snorted, "I'm sure your mum has you escorting someone she's deemed _suitable_."

After clearing his throat, Scorpius looked around awkwardly as he scratched the side of his neck, then he spoke, "I'd like to escort you myself, if you'd like. As my date."

Her answer was out before she could process the question. "Okay." Then she thought about it, cringing. "I mean, your mum is going to be mad as a bag of ferrets, but—"

"I'll handle my mum."

She _knew_ perfectly well just how much her face conveyed her complete doubt in the entire matter, but Rose still said, "May the force be with you."

He rolled his eyes, but chuckled, "That's the _second_ Star Wars line you've quoted in the last two minutes."

So, he _had_ been paying attention. Good to know.

"Taught you well, I have," Rose said in her horrid Yoda voice as she rubbed her hands together. "_Mmhmm_." Then she started laughing at herself.

Scorpius chuckled, not seeming to mind her odd sense of humour because he tucked a flyaway behind her ear. "Enjoy your lunch," and then he flashed a small smile. "I'll see you tonight."

And, well, that was the first time either had voiced their _arrangement_ – for lack of a better word – out loud. She thought about the eyes and ears on her and the fact that had anyone heard him, they would have more questions than answers. She should have cared; should have told him to lower his voice or not to speak of it at all, but for some reason, Rose didn't care.

Because the weirdness between them was no one's business except their own.

"Thanks for lunch," she smiled genuinely. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he replied sincerely.

Rose wasn't sure how to respond so she blurted out, "Thanks for—" she froze, cringing at the awkwardness. "Wanting to? Bloody hell, my ability to speak today is utter _rubbish_."

His smile widened into a grin, and hers followed suit. Soon, they were chuckling together at her ridiculousness, faces flushed. Rose couldn't help but notice how almost boyishly charming she'd found him in that moment; reminded how much she liked the way his real smile would make his eyes brighten and crinkle in the corners.

Scorpius glanced at his watched and sobered, which made her smile even out. "I've got to go."

"Okay."

She felt his fingertips brush against hers and their eyes held each other's just a little longer.

And then, he left.

Once she sorted her thoughts, Rose settled down at the table he'd left, first checking on the most important thing at the table: the food he'd brought for her. Baked chicken, boiled red potatoes and medley of seasonal vegetables that didn't look _entirely_ horrible. And it didn't taste entirely horrible either.

Or she was hungry.

Regardless, it was gone in minutes and she was licking her plastic fork clean.

Hunger satisfied until it was time to scope out the free snacks in the tea room, she threw her trash away and made a note to ask her mum for more of those cereal bars that he liked so much. As a thank you. Then, she started working on the files, checking the little notes she'd made on each file to give her a better idea on each patient.

Time passed like that.

Medi-Witches peeked in, smiling at Rose until they realised that she was alone before leaving in quiet disappointment at the lack of Scorpius. All of it was strange. She hadn't noticed anyone intruding before, but it was likely because she and Scorpius – and sometimes Al or Jane or _both_ – were debating about something completely relevant in its irrelevance.

Or they were talking while working.

Or she was napping on the table while he read…

Rose was halfway finished with her lunch work when she heard someone clear their throat.

First, she sighed, thinking it was yet another interruption.

Second, she looked up, ready to paste a smile on her face and pretend not to be irritated.

But it wasn't anyone she had expected.

Rose was on her feet, wand drawn, before the man could put down the box he was holding.

"What do _you_ want, Alder Henry?"

The lanky man's eyes went comically wide as he dropped the box on the floor, keeping his hands up as if Rose were going to hex first and ask questions second. She really had the mind to do just that, but restrained herself. Only just barely. Keeping her eyes trained on him, Rose side-stepped the table, approaching him cautiously. Not exactly what she wanted to do, but running out the room wasn't as much of an option as he blocked the only way out.

Besides, only someone with an atrophied sense of self-preservation wouldn't have felt the urge to run away.

And she had the upper wand, so to speak.

So, she continued onward. Slowly.

And the closer she got, the more she noticed how _different_ he looked from how she remembered him. And she did remember him. She remembered _everything_. Alder was still lanky and as tall as her dad, and his Unspeakable robes still hung looser on him than they should for someone his age. But he was so _pale_; far more than she remembered, and it made his black hair seem impossibly darker. At the end of her wand, he seemed a little haunted. Fragile. And oddly, she almost let his appearance make her feel better, but in the end, Rose refused to be that person.

Refused to gather her strength from the weakness of others.

Besides, his appearance was likely a product of working under the biggest bastard she had ever had the misfortune to meet.

Despite his exterior, when he spoke finally, his voice was clear and showed no sign of his visible angst. "I'm not here to cause any further trouble."

Which _really_ had been the worst thing he could have said to her. "Then you shouldn't have showed your face."

"I _needed_ to speak with you."

Rose kept her wand pointed at him, despite the earnest look he was giving her. "I'm not playing verbal games with you or _anyone_ today. What do you want? Make it quick and be mindful that I'm not afraid to use my wand."

"I just want to talk," Alder replied, making gestures expressing his compliance.

Rose wasn't buying it. "You must think I'm some sort of _idiot_. You can go report back—"

"Barracus doesn't know I'm here," he said all at once. "If he knew, I'd be demoted instantly."

Well, that was interesting, however too convenient. She'd read enough mystery novels to know what the hell was going on, but remained quiet, keeping her wand levelled at his chest. "Keep talking."

Seemed like the best thing to say to get someone to talk themselves into a hole, but what did she know? She was winging it, at best.

"We're under strict orders not to approach you or your friends. Not until he's ready."

So, he had gone rogue. _Interesting_.

Although, it made sense as fear never inspired _true_ loyalty.

"Ready for what?" Rose asked curiously, not really wanting to know the answer, but knowing whatever Barracus had planned for her was unavoidable. Best she knew what was coming.

Alder stepped back slightly and she found it odd that someone her dad's age was so nervy. The only time her dad got like that was when he saw a spider. Or her mum's canaries. "He still thinks you're connected to the person bound to the dagger. In some way. He'll stop at nothing to make you help us find it."

Barracus would be _lucky_ if she didn't find a way to destroy the damn thing.

"I'm here because you didn't deserve what happened to you. I want to help."

"Why?" Rose asked dubiously, quickly glancing down at her arms where the sleeves of her robes covered her healed wounds and bruises. "I've been back two weeks, and you wait until today?"

"You're _never_ alone," he countered. "And I can't have Barracus finding out accidentally." He looked away and down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. He inhaled once, then exhaled. "It doesn't mean much now, but I'm sorry for what happened to you. I had no idea he would—I tried to stop him."

And that was true. She remembered how anxious he sounded; how he tried to defend her, and how quickly he'd been dismissed back to his corner. Only then did she lower her wand, not fully trusting him, but she was more willing to listen to what he had to say.

There was also the matter of the box.

"What's in there?" Rose gestured to the package at his feet.

Slowly, he squatted down, hands still raised until he lowered them slowly to pick it up. "This is what Barracus offered you if you assisted him: access to the research on the dagger. It's not unlimited, but it's everything I could find and copy without alerting the wards, which would then alert him that someone was trying to remove unauthorised information from the department. It's the least I could do."

Rose stared at the box of valuable information, then cut her eyes back to him. "You haven't answered my question. Why do you want to help me?"

"You've met him. I think my reason is obvious." When she just blinked at him in disinterest of his typical answer, Alder sighed and gave her more. "Barracus doesn't care about the Greater Good he preaches about. He only cares about what the dagger can do for _him_."

She frowned thoughtfully. "And what is that? Power? He's one of the most powerful people in the Ministry."

"Power in title is _nothing_ like having it thrumming through your veins."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," she recited something her uncle had said to them more than a few times.

Unspeakable Henry's eyebrow rose at her statement, "And you think he isn't corrupted already? Think about what he wanted to do to you because you refused to help him."

Fair point. After all, Barracus had gotten their secured files and thrown his knowledge in Al and Scorpius' face without hesitation.

"Barracus has been the head of the Department of Mysteries for fifteen years now, and he runs the department with an iron fist. Before he was appointed, he was the Undersecretary and lead the dagger research project with Unspeakable Brown. When it went missing, he formed a team dedicated to finding it – a team he still leads."

"A team that you're on," Rose deduced.

He nodded. "When the dagger was lost, I was in my first year as an Unspeakable; working under Unspeakable Brown as his assistant. After it went missing—"

"Or was stolen," she interrupted. "Because that's more likely."

"It is," he said evenly, standing to his full height. "The team was comprised only of those that had worked with the dagger directly, as we know what it looks like and what it can do. On both a theoretical and literal basis, as stories of Unspeakables being corrupted by it have been passed on in case studies. We've searched all over the world for years, looking into mysterious deaths that are similar to the ones that have happened at St. Mungo's. After your mother asked for his help, I don't think I'd ever seen him so happy. And when he found out that someone had managed to survive all these years while bound to the dagger without it completely corrupting or killing them…" he trailed off, looking fascinated. "Well, I can't say I don't understand his interest."

Rose pointed her wand at him, showing just how _intriguing_ she found his statement.

"Pick it up and put it on the table," she told him in lieu of a response.

Unspeakable Henry did just that. Slowly. His hands shook as he seemed to struggle with picking it up. Was it that heavy? Rose wasn't sure, but she made him open it to see the contents before performing every anti-theft and every anti-enchantment spell she could think of while he waited patiently – even suggesting more that she hadn't thought of in an attempt to prove to her that she could trust him.

She still wasn't too certain, but when she touched the first parchment and she didn't find herself thrown across the room – or worse, _dead_ – she at least knew that he hadn't meant her any harm.

And right then, that was all she could hope for in her current situation.

She cut her eyes back at the Unspeakable. "Why do you think he wants it so badly?"

"You've already heard what it can do."

"In my dreams, I've seen it _kill_," Rose said dryly, refusing to think any further on the statement.

"There are more benefits to the dagger, if you're bound to it. There's power, for starts. You can heal incurable diseases, do thing that aren't even possible through normal magical means, and even bring someone from the brink of dea—"

"You'll _never_ convince me that a sentient dagger is actually beneficial to wizarding kind. I'm not a sycophant like your old boss – or whatever he is to you. The dagger _feeds_ on magic like a vampire. You have to stab someone in the heart—"

"That's not exactly true. Your friend's mother knew a passable amount of information, but she never had much experience with it. There's no specific place that you have to use the dagger for it to work. It just needs to be instantly fatal." Alder shrugged clinically and that probably had to do with years of working with dangerous things she could hardly fathom. "It can be the heart or brain. It doesn't feed on their blood, like a vampire would, but rather the last pulse of magic a body gives off before it dies." When she just blinked at him, he gestured to the box. "It's all in the research I've provided."

Like _that_ made it any better.

"And it if it's not fatal, it suppresses your magic," Rose recalled from her talk with Quincy's mum.

"For a length of time. It depends."

"On what?" Before he could answer, she shook her head. "You know what? I don't even care. You can say whatever you want, but that _thing_ survives on the destruction of others, which isn't natural at all. No one can tell me that it's not a dark artefact when I've seen it in action. I'm not even getting into the fact that someone _willingly_ bound themselves to it or the corruption aspect of it, because the less I know, the better I'll sleep. It does, however, make me wonder how you lot fed it for years."

"There are alternative food sources in the Department of Mysteries. That's all I can say."

Which was fine because Rose wasn't interested in knowing anything else.

"We kept it fed enough to live unbound, but not enough to keep it satisfied. It's always hungry for more."

And that was _still_ disturbing.

She looked into the box again. "You obviously must want me to find the dagger and the person it's bound to. That's why you're telling me all this."

He shook his head. "No, I actually don't. I'm telling you this because Barracus has chosen you for this mission of his and it's better if you know more than you do right now. As it stands, you're woefully unqualified."

Rose exhaled a dry laugh. "I couldn't agree more."

Alder gave her a meaningful look. "I saw the room you were in when they found you. You got lucky."

Which made her bristle. "Not sure if accidently stumbling on a ward that made me feel like I'd completely lost my mind, falling into a room where someone was being murdered, being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse and _then_ being stunned would be considered lucky, but what do I know?" She heard her voice getting more and more hysterical, but couldn't stop it. "_Oh_, and while I was _unconscious_, someone I don't even _know_ had complete access to all my thoughts and memories and completely _violated_ my brain with a rushed memory charm that only partly took. And _then_, to add insult to injury, they tried to compel me to confess to crimes I hadn't committed," and her tone was airy, but her expression anything but, "Nothing major."

He swallowed audibly. "That…doesn't sound pleasant."

"It wasn't," she scowled. "I didn't _ask_ for anything that happened. I didn't ask for _any_ of this. And your boss thinks my survival was some sort of _demented_ clue."

"It was," he agreed with someone not even present, albeit reluctantly given the angry vibes he was surely getting from her. "Your survival shows that they have some restraint. That they can try to cover their tracks. They just aren't a mindless killing machine. And that's important."

"Lucky me," Rose drawled. "Henrietta thinks they're putting sick people out of their misery."

"Interesting," he said thoughtfully, "I personally think they're sending a message."

"What message could they possibly be trying to send by killing people?"

But the better question was: _who were they trying to send a message to?_

She never got a chance to ask the question because someone cleared their throat. Rose, already sick of the everyone in the hospital, leaned to look past him and caught sight of her boss in the doorway.

Lavender often oscillated in and out of her dark moods – _that_ Rose had been used to witnessing. If she wanted, she always came out of it. Like earlier. She was used to her boss's sarcasm, her bossy nature, the quiet ways she showed Rose that she thought she was doing a good job, the way she silently judged the hell out of people for their misuse of vanity charms, and the many…_many_ ways she'd professionally told people to _fuck off_.

That being said, Rose was _not_ used to her anger.

And she was angry in a way that she'd never seen from her; that seemed almost out of character. So much that the sarcastic comment that had been ready to spring forth suddenly withered and died in her throat. Lavender's fists were clenched at her side—one had a wand in it, and Rose suddenly understood how James felt whenever she got into a fight at school.

How could she stop her before everything boiled over?

James usually picked her up and carried her away, but that wasn't an option. Rose didn't have the upper body strength for that sort of move.

_Oh bugger._

"You're not supposed to be here. This is for employees of the hospital _only_." Lavender all but snarled as hot _fury_ rolled off her in waves that Rose could feel from where she stood.

If _she_ had felt it, Alder _most certainly_ had as well, but he showed no signs of being the slightest bit bothered by her presence. "Apologies," he said demurely, but there was a hitch in his voice that betrayed his calm exterior. "I-I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to be here. Miss Weasley and I were speaking—"

"I don't give a damn," her boss said hotly as Rose's eyes got impossibly wide. "Get out."

"Sorry." Alder held up his hands, complying. He gave the very confused Rose a polite nod and walked out, passing Lavender who was practically fuming in rage. The two stared at each other for one long tense moment before the wizard Disapparated with a soft pop.

In the silence after his departure, Rose awkwardly stacked the file and dumped everything into the box. If she hadn't liked his presence, she _certainly_ would not like what he'd given her. "Uh, what was that?" She finally asked.

Because what the _hell_?

"What did he say to you?" Lavender said in a tone that commanded a response.

Rose could have been honest, but decided a partial truth was a much better option. "He apologised for what happened at my Inquiry."

Lavender looked almost _sick_ and Rose took a step back, wondering just what the hell was going on in her boss's head. "H-he was at your Inquiry?"

"Uh, _yes_." She blinked once. "He works for Barracus."

Her fist tightened. "Go home, Rose. I'll see you Monday."

And then she stormed off.  
  


* * *

  
To be fair, she actually tried to sleep alone.

Rose did yoga stretches and drank the bedtime tea Jane had given her to help her relax; she took a hot shower and laid in the bed while reading at her book. She put on instrumental music, turned off all the lights and closed her eyes while counting. She got to three hundred before she gave up and started listening to the sound of the ocean, which was something Scorpius found calming.

It made her restless instead.

She moved on to the sounds of burning wood.  
Then, night-time sounds from the woods.  
Bird songs. River sounds. Wind chimes.

By the time her stomach rumbled for the fifth time, Rose gave up and kicked off the covers in a huff before getting out of bed. It was just after midnight when she wandered into the kitchen for a late-night snack. She wanted popcorn, but she always burned it, so she settled for chicken and mushroom flavoured pot noodles.

_An excellent choice,_ she'd decided after the first taste of noodles and flavoured sodium.

She immediately heated up a second one.

Because it was going to be a long night.

Insomnia wasn't the worst of her problems, but it was one that was staring her in the face now that she found herself alone. It wasn't the sort of issue that could be resolved like other problems: she couldn't think, talk, or act her way out of it. The harder Rose tried to force herself to sleep, the less likely she was to actually do it. She couldn't rationalise it, so she ventured out to her table, armed with two pot noodle cups and a fork where she tried to ignore it instead.

That could work.

The box on her table caught her eye.

That _also_ could work.

Rose wasn't sure what to make of Alder Henry or his box of information. The only impression of him initially had been clouded by the events of the day. She recalled everything from Barracus' entrance until her uncle broke down the door, but couldn't remember the tiny details. Like how he'd been when they took her from down to Level Ten.

Did he look at her once before he'd bound her wrists?

Because shit, _that had been him_.

How the hell had she forgotten that?

How was he holding his wand? Did he ever look at her directly? Important details now that he was apologetic and trying to help, but she was drawing blanks, except on the fact that he'd been nervous and scared when her uncle burst in the room. And today, where he seemed perfectly reasonable and helpful until Lavender came in and all but threw him out.

The entire exchange had been weird.

Weirder still that she'd all but vanished after storming off.

Rose had waited around for her to come back to continue their conversation, but after an hour of waiting, she gone home with the box. She had owled her dad and sat down with it and the Ministry files, prepared to sort through all she could in her spare time. But then her cousin Fred had dome through the Floo, having just returned to the country, and that had promptly ended her research plans. Fred had volunteered to come bring her back to the joke shop for more product testing, as they knew Rose wouldn't hold back her opinion – good or bad.

And that was how she'd spent the rest of her afternoon – with her dad, uncle George, and Fred; testing agents of chaos and kicking Fred in the shin when he tried to use her head as an armrest.

The tall bastard.

Then Aunt Angelina had brought Roxanne by and she practically attached herself to her older brother and that had been how their day ended. She and her dad had gone on to stuff themselves with fried chicken and played arcade games like they'd done so many times before. By the time she'd gotten home, Rose had fallen into binge-watching a new show and before she'd known it, it had been time to go to bed…if she wanted to not hate herself during their morning run.

Scorpius was still not there, but she was wide awake and had nothing but time now.

"Perfect time for some dark shit," Rose said to her empty flat.

Then she opened the box, pulled out the contents, and started from the top parchment.

Research was something Rose had always been good at – much like her mum. Hugo, oddly, had little patience for it until it interested him. In theory, she should have had the same opinion because research felt like homework: obligatory, structural, and involved the use of too many brain cells. But actually, Rose liked research because it gave her the excuse to eat delicious noodles (or snacks) and decide what she wanted to learn.

She made quick work, sorting through the entire stack of parchments, skimming through the content in order to categorise research on more manageable topics: the dagger's vague history, its properties and abilities, and the case studies and experiments done on the last survivor.

The last one?

Well, she wasn't going to bother with that one because at some point she _actually_ wanted to sleep. There weren't enough pot noodles to make her enjoy reading their clinical research on someone who had lost their magic – with their detached descriptions and terminology that made her seem like a lab rat rather than a human being.

So, she started on the stack of parchment about how the dagger came to be in the possession of the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't terribly informative. The Ministry had seized it in its early days during a raid on the fortress of a wizard whose name and crimes had been lost to history. The Department of Mysteries had taken possession of it – as they did with all mysterious objects – to determine what it was and how it could be of use.

Dull.

Rose put the stack of parchment back into the box and focused on the second pile. Rose skimmed through pages and _pages_ of boring details and drawn out narration of their unsuccessful attempts at figuring out how to use it until a researcher in the late eighteenth century nicked himself on the blade and lost his magic for two days.

And, well, _that_ was when it got interesting.

Rose lost herself in reading, barely noticing the passage of time. She got up to find something to write notes on, which had been harder than she'd anticipated. Rose ended up finding scraps of parchment in her school chest, which did the job. By the time she'd sat back down, she found herself in need of a snack and brought the parchment she'd been reading into the kitchen with her.

Then again to get some milk and a tin of custard cream biscuits her mum had made.

She was busy trying not to drip milk on the parchment she was reading and making notes when the Floo behind her flared to life. Rose wasn't so much as distracted from her task, but she turned anyway just in time to see Scorpius step out; still dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing earlier.

He looked _tired_.

Research forgotten, she turned in her chair. "All right?"

Scorpius looked surprised to see her sitting there. "Why are you still awake? It's after one."

"I couldn't sleep," Rose shrugged. A bit of milk dribbled on her pyjama pants from the biscuit she'd dunked into her glass of milk, which prompted her to eat it before it broke off. "Besides," she said after she chewed it up. _Delicious_. "I had an interesting conversation with Alder Henry."

Suddenly, he didn't look as tired, joining her at the table. He stood over her shoulder, leaning in as he tried to read over her shoulder. Rose turned back towards her stack of parchment because she found herself momentarily distracted – not by the fact that he'd easily invaded her space, but the fact that he smelled exactly the same as he had early, only a little more like liquor now.

"What's this?" he gestured to the three piles of parchment on the table.

"Dagger research copied from the archives of the Department of Mysteries."

"He gave this to you?"

"As atonement, I suppose. I didn't look this particular gift horse in the mouth."

Scorpius chuckled as he sat in the chair next to her, adjusting his glasses as he reached for the parchment she'd been reading. Rose slapped his hand, which made him withdraw his hand. She smiled innocently in response to his scowl. "Find your own research. I'm in the middle of a _riveting_ tale about a voracious, magic-suppressing dagger that'll feed from the person its bound to when it goes too long between feedings."

With a roll of his eyes, he reached for the first file her mum had procured for them, opening it and leaning back in his chair as if he were reading a good book. "Sounds fascinating."

"It is." Rose went back to reading, but not for long. "How was lunch with your parents?"

He visibly tensed. "It went so well that it extended into scotch after with my dad, then dinner with my grandparents at my dad's while my parents argued in the next room."

Not well at all then.

Rose awkwardly looked around before peeking over at Scorpius, who was calmly reading the file, not looking worse for wear. She'd always known how to read him to an extent and excluding certain looks, so she knew better than to look at the overall picture; knew to look closer at the little things.

Like his hair, which looked as if he'd run his hands through it too many times. Like his eyes, which showed an exhaustion too deep to have come from a long day. Like the worry lines that went from his nose to his mouth. Like the tension he carried in his shoulders. He was tie-less and the top two buttons on his shirt had been undone, which spoke louder than all of her little observations.

Scorpius cut his eyes at her, which prompted her to look away and down at the parchment in front of her. Knowing his answer, she still asked her question anyway: "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet."

Huh. _Actually_, that hadn't been the answer she'd expected.

_No_ had been the answer she thought he would give.

Rose reached for a custard cream biscuit to eat in an attempt to keep her mouth occupied. Just so she wouldn't ask any other stupid questions. Halfway from the tin to her mouth, she paused to look at the deliciousness in her hand before glancing over Scorpius.

She offered it to him instead. "Here."

His eyebrow went above the rim of his glasses. "You're sharing?"

She rolled her eyes, huffing, "I do that sometimes."

His face reflected his extreme doubt on the matter. "You threw a pillow at Al when he ate one of your chocolate frogs after it had a good hop."

"I've learned to share since then." Rose argued.

"That was _yesterday_."

"Semantics," she offered the biscuit again, trying to suppress the same grin he had been biting back. "Do you want it or not? My mum made them with regular sugar, not that you care, but I had to wrestle my dad for the tin so you're lucky that I'm sharing. My dad doesn't fight fair."

He'd all but chased her around the house with her mum yelling at them both, but she'd ended up throwing her hands up and leaving them in favour of a book. They ended up playing for it over a game of chess. However, when Rose realised that she had no chance of winning, she turned to an old favourite: resourceful persuasion. She'd managed to convince her dad to split the tin because neither of them knew when her mum would make full-sugar biscuits again.

It was a win-win.

Scorpius accepted her offering with a private smile of his own. Where Al would have inhaled the biscuit without much thought – or even tasting it – Scorpius took his time to enjoy it. Rose gave him a second one before he could ask and joined in, eating one of her own while she went back to reading. Scorpius continued with his reading, flipping to the next page only seconds before making a small noise.

"What do you know about Healer Brown's family?"

That was a random question. Rose made a face, broadcasting her utter confusion. When she looked over at Scorpius, she found him waiting for an answer. "Uh, not much. Her mother died before she regained consciousness after a brief illness and her dad is still living, but they don't speak. Outside of that, she doesn't talk much about herself or her family. What does that have to do anything?"

"Alder Henry and Lavender Brown are first cousins."

Her eyes went wide while his went back to the file, reading on. Dagger research abandoned for something _far_ more intriguing, Rose slid her chair closer, looking on. "_What?_"

"His mother is her father's sister. She married an American half-blood wizard and they lived there until his parents died during his Sixth Year. Her parents took guardianship of him, but let him finish school there. He moved here and started as an Unspeakable a few months before Voldemort staged his coup on the Ministry."

They were _cousins_.

"Earlier," Rose said carefully, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. "She walked in on us talking and she – I'd _never_ seen her that angry. I'm not even sure what happened, but she sent me home after finding out he'd sat in on my Inquiry. I waited, but she never came back."

Scorpius looked like he was trying to put together a complicated puzzle. "Did they act like they knew each other?"

"No." Then she thought about it. "Well, she seemed to instantly recognise him from behind, so perhaps? Neither of them said anything that indicated they knew each other. He actually looked – I don't know – _frightened_, even though he didn't sound like it."

He looked as confused as she had been while witnessing their exchange. "Try to ask her about it."

Well, that had been her plan all along, even before she'd known about their relationship.

"What did he tell you about himself?"

Rose frowned. "Likely nothing more than what you have in that file. He mentioned that he'd just become an Unspeakable when the coup happened. That he worked as Unspeakable Brown's assistant and he was on the team that had been searching for it all this time."

"Unspeakable Brown is…" he trailed off with a question.

"The head dagger researcher. Barracus tried to make him use an Unforgiveable on me when my uncle burst in the room." Scorpius' eyes narrowed and Rose looked down at her hands. "He and Barracus pretty much spent their entire career working together with the dagger. Alder said that he didn't think Barracus wanted the dagger for the Greater Good, but rather for himself. And its power."

"That would make sense," he fixed his glasses and looked at her after flipping the page on Alder Henry's file. "Do you think he wants to bind himself to it?"

"With an egomaniac like Barracus, anything seems possible. And now he knows that someone has survived this long bound to it, I'd imagine he'd be interested in figuring out just what made that person so special."

Scorpius eyed Alder's file with a frown on his face. "We can't give that dagger back to them."

"Um…_that's_ been the plan all along." Rose reminded him. "Get them the dagger and eat _all_ the carbs. I liked that plan."

"Sorry, but we need to change it," he said, voice edgy with determination. "Barracus, with that sort of power, is _dangerous_. A man like that won't just stop at being a department head. I can't speak to his motivation, but I do know that he wants that dagger too much. You already know what he's willing to do to accomplish his goals."

She shuddered at the thought, having experienced it first-hand. "Okay, okay. We destroy it. How?"

"I'm not sure," Scorpius closed his file and picked up the pages of research on the dagger that she'd already read. "I'm still working out the logistics, but what I _do_ know is that we need to find it before Barracus."

Which would be easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope everyone is staying safe. Quarantine has my fingers and brain working faster than before, probably because I've got time, so prayers up that we keep on this train of more than one chapter a month. Well, as we march through this, we've got some advice and a little more specific backstory on Lavender, scenes between these two knuckleheads (we'll talk about his lunch with his parents in the next chapter), more info on this dagger, and all the changes that have happened since Scorpius spoke his heart. Well, things are about to get interesting. In more ways than one. I've read everyone's suspicions about who has the dagger and this has been fun for me. Almost as fun as working through Rose's thoughts and feelings. Almost. Until next time. Happy reading and continue to stay safe.
> 
> inadaze22


	19. Corners Of The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   

> 
> _I'm at one  
And I'm been silent for too long  
I've been quiet for too long  
_  
**Silence – Marshamello (feat Khalid)**  


**Chapter Nineteen: ** _ **Corners of the Earth** _

To Rose, the term _Survival of the Fittest_ had always sounded more like a threat than a promise.

The phrase was ambiguous, and because of that, it had been used as a comforting belief for those who – because of their wealth, pedigree, and status – thought they had the privilege to not only view themselves as _the fittest_, but also use it as an excuse to exploit those who were not.

What did _the fittest_ mean? Society was in an eternal state of flux. Traits that hadn't been valuable were now essential due to the ever-changing needs of civilisation. And vice versa.

For example: Rose was afraid of heights.

Could she be deemed _the fittest_ because she'd always had the _good fucking sense_ to stay on the ground and thus significantly decrease the probability of imminent death? Or could she be considered _the fittest_ because, while fear was an undesirable trait to pass on, she'd also inherited a mean stubborn streak that had brought her fifty metres in the air to face that fear head-on?

Actually, would it matter?

If she were to die at any point between the platform and the ground, there would be no traits to pass on.

_Or maybe that was the point._

All Rose knew was that _everything_ that had led up to that particular moment was Astoria's fault.

The day hadn't started off terribly. Rose had woken to light filtering in from the partially opened curtain. Scorpius had been warm as ever, still asleep. Which was strange because the possessed alarm had been blaring its normal rousing tune for at least an hour or two by that point.

Rose found herself almost proud that he'd slept through it, but then remembered they'd spent the entire night reading through everything Alder had provided, only going to bed at nearly four in the morning when they could no longer keep their eyes open.

And it wasn't quite seven.

So, basically Scorpius was _dead_. And Rose wondered why she wasn't as well. _Oh, right_.

Her body had woken her up to run. Funny how that worked.

In a strange role-reversal, _she_ had been the one to wake _him_ up, something Scorpius hadn't found funny. He was grumpy about everything until he'd returned dressed for their run. He'd Apparated them to the very first trail they'd run on, and it was different seeing it in the daylight. That time, despite their bone-deep exhaustion, they ran longer and Rose kept up better than before. Perhaps it had been because he was tired or because she was doing better.

Whichever.

After, they laid in the grass by the water's edge of the lake, warmed by the still-rising sun as they listened to music. In the silence between them, Scorpius recharged and Rose caught her breath in the morning breeze.

When his hand had found hers in the grass between them, he never complained once about the sweatiness.

But neither did she.

He hadn't been ready to go, but they had to meet his parents, cousins, Al, and Jane for his mother's Birthday Bucket List Challenge at nine and – well, Rose, at that point, had been in desperate need of a shower.

Astoria had only one rule about her Bucket List Challenge, which Scorpius had explained years before. _Everyone had to participate_. Not an issue for Rose. With as many hobbies as she'd had in her life, obviously she had no issues with trying something once and never doing it again. And, well, because they'd gone hot air balloon racing last year, Rose had assumed that year's activity would take place firmly on the ground.

_Words_ couldn't explain how wrong she'd been.

Bungee jumping.

_That_ had been what Astoria had selected for her activity.

If Rose had been a distrustful person – _and she was_ – she would have believed that Astoria had decided on that particular activity _knowing_ just how much she hated heights. Scorpius' three cousins – Marcus, Joseph, and Octavian – had all been _thrilled_ to try a new Muggle activity. Teddy, Al, and Mr Draco – all no stranger to heights – had also been keen on jumping.

The only other hold-out had been Jane, bless her. She'd looked a bit nervous.

Rose could relate.

While Scorpius had frowned at his mother, everyone else had figured out the order in which they wanted to jump. Jane had opted to go last, and when Astoria asked Rose when she wanted to jump, she'd frozen in place. What was after last?

Oh, wait. _Never_.

Which was a violation of the rule. The only rule.

_Why_ had she come?

Right, because Scorpius had invited her. That prat.

But it was fine. Rose had a brilliant plan that had involved using Jane's uneasiness as an excuse to stay on the ground, but then _Albus fucking Potter_ just _had_ to shyly suggest to Jane that they jump together; something that had made her just as excited as the others.

Rose had briefly thought about disowning him, but he really was her favourite cousin.

She revisited the thought again however when, at her continued refusal to answer Astoria's question, Rose found herself under the woman's steely gaze, mocked by her words. "_Surely_ you aren't afraid." And even though her condescending drawl had been her normal tone when it came to Rose, it had still made her grind her teeth with irritation.

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid of free-falling towards the earth with no guarantee of survival," Jane had said casually as she blew her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of air. "Cords can snap and equipment can fail. It's not a completely irrational fear."

Everyone – except Al, who had bobbed his head in agreement – just blinked at her like she'd brought up an excellent point. Well, that had gone morbid quickly. Rose just smiled because she'd known her friend well enough to know that she wasn't finished.

"I was afraid of centaurs, but then I met one that only threatened to eat me once. So, I'd say he was really nice…" She trailed off dreamily, looking down only to discover her shoes were untied. "Oh!"

Daphne's eldest son, Marcus, blinked at Jane repeatedly then cut his eyes over to his middle brother, Joseph, who was standing next to him, looking just as lost. "I'm utterly confused right now."

"That's normal," Rose and Scorpius had replied simultaneously. They'd looked at each other, allowing a smirk to pass between them that immediately had grown into matching smiles. He was standing between Joseph and Octavian; his blond hair made him stand out from his three cousins who had inherited their father's black hair. He was shorter than Marcus, slimmer than the stocky Jacob, and not nearly as gangly as Octavian, who was in his Fourth Year at Hogwarts.

A Hufflepuff.

Much to the confusion of no one. He had always been different.

Happy-go-lucky in a family of opportunists and overthinkers.

Jane just grinned at them, but Octavian had been the only one to return a toothy grin.

Mr Draco had coughed to cover his chuckle, but Astoria glared daggers at him and completely bypassed Jane's…_everything_. "Well, thank you for the _fascinating_ story, but this is quite safe. I've researched it myself and there is only a one in ten _million_ chance of equipment failure."

So, there _was_ a chance.

Rose peered up, watching as another jumper stood on the edge, arm out, ready to go.

It was _so_ high that she had been forced to crane her head, squint her eyes, and use her hand to block the wind. She probably should have left well enough alone because the sight had made Rose's stomach roll violently.

She shouldn't have had that protein smoothie. Or the five pieces of crispy bacon.

Conversation had gone on around her while Rose watched as the person willingly leapt from the platform with their arms wide open, screaming in excitement all the way down. While the odds had seemed excellent, Rose's luck had been _awful_ lately, and she had a better chance than most to end up splattered on the pavement.

Still, she watched like an idiot – unable to tear her eyes away as the rope snapped them back up into the air. Almost horrified, she watched them rise and fall in the air until they came to a complete rest upside down mere metres off the ground. The workers on the ground quickly got them upright, then out of the harness and safety gear before the rope was pulled up by a machine for the next jumper.

The _obviously_ mad-as-a-hatter bloke had run over to join his mates, making animated gestures that showed just how much he'd enjoyed the experience.

Rose died a little inside.

Mouth dry, she struggled to swallow, but nausea kept rising from the pit of her stomach. She fought against it, but fear was pulling her further under, panic rushing past her lips and into her lungs. And just when her breath quickened, she felt someone touch her hand, which had distracted her from the full-blown panic attack she was trying to have. It was Jane, and she was dabbing her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief that had _DM_ embroidered on it, giving her a worried look.

As was Scorpius, but kept his concern to only looks because he was busy. The conversation she'd exited from had escalated into an argument with his mother while she was being traumatised.

"She doesn't have to do it," Scorpius said in almost a testing tone that quietly dared anyone to argue with him. His arms were at his side, his body language relaxed, but his stance had looked almost defensive.

Al had redeemed himself as her favourite cousin when he agreed.

"It's silly that we're _all_ going to jump and she won't," Astoria argued, not bothering to hide her exasperation. "Why did she accept the invitation? I _always_ do something that involves heights for my birthday! It's—"

"You've _never_ invited Rose before," his father interjected in a smooth, but corrective tone. "It's unfair for you to assume that she would know your plans as you've _always_ kept them a secret until the last possible moment. Also, might I add, you don't always choose activities that involve heights. I believe you chose to go to a beekeeping farm to make honey five years ago."

"Uncle Draco's right. We went to the Swiss Alps four years ago, but we just looked from the ground." Octavian reminded his aunt, oblivious to the fact that her frown, now directed at him, had deepened to the point where she'd started looking like Scorpius when he was annoyed by someone that he cared about.

Rose knew the look too well. Particularly when she picked a film or put her cold feet on him at night.

But Octavian hadn't been deterred by her looks or by Marcus clearing his throat. Because he was just that precious. "We went to Ireland three years ago," he continued on happily. "That was my favourite of your birthday activities because we got to see castles. Then two years ago, we drove Go-karts and Uncle Draco was terrible at it. _Then_ we went hot air balloon racing last year." He scratched his black hair thoughtfully before adding. "I think last year was the _first_ time we'd done anything with heights."

Scorpius seemed to relax a bit, smirking at his gawky little cousin who was nearly his height and ruffling his dark hair. Mr. Draco gave Rose a little nod that spoke volumes. Marcus nodded in agreement, albeit looking extremely amused by it all. Hell, even Joseph said, "He's got a point."

"_Fine_," Astoria conceded, "But the rule is everyone must participate—"

"Mother…" Scorpius warned, voice low.

"What?" she retorted. "It's the rule that we all tick off a bucket list item together. That's the _entire_ point of the day and how we've always done it. I'm not being unreas—"

The only thing Rose could blame for her next lapse in judgment had been the fact that her pride had come out of nowhere and tackled her self-preservation. She hadn't the foggiest clue where the words had come from, but before Scorpius could continue, she'd blurted out: "I'll do it."

And then she'd run _full speed_ towards the attendant like a complete lunatic to pay.

She dropped too many notes on the counter, and when the bloke had tried to give them back, she laughed hysterically and accidentally yelled, _"You can't talk me out of this!"_ The poor bloke looked terrified, but pointed her in the direction she needed to go.

And _that_ was how she'd found herself standing on a platform over fifty metres in the air while strapped down with all sorts of safety belts and her ankles firmly secured to cables. Well, sort of. There was the whole matter of weight, proper cables, and adjustments, but that was far beyond her understanding at the moment.

Rose had a picturesque view of London, but couldn't enjoy it because she was too busy sweating and swearing and vowing _never_ to let her fucking _pride_ take control like that again. She was also praying and taking deep breaths in an attempt to not cry. Or piss herself. Either one.

But the only saving grace had been the fact that she wasn't alone.

Scorpius had all but run after her and stepped on the scale with her. He had been out of breath, but firmly told her, _"We're jumping together."_

And that was that.

If she were being honest – a good time for that seeing as she was mere moments from willingly (or not) jumping off the platform – Rose would admit that she was glad to have him with her should she end up a broken mess on the ground.

_Now_ she couldn't unthink that thought.

The platform worker finished his first round of equipment checks before stepping back to give instructions. Rose couldn't even listen because she was already shaking and panicking about worst-case scenarios, _and_ the fact that she had the best possibility to be that one in a ten million chance of death because of her rotten luck.

"Almost ready," the platform worker told them. "Just one more check."

Rose, who had been pressed up against Scorpius at that point, wrapped her arms around him, her vision blurring at the edges. Light-headed and teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, she pressed her ear against his chest, right over his heart, in an attempt to calm herself down.

Or as much as she could.

"You're okay." His rumbled words reverberated through her entire body. His arms were around her, touch firm.

Rose took a shaky breath. Then another. She found it easy to focus on him. Just like that.

She shut her eyes tight and listened, focusing on his heat and heartbeat, trying to match her breath to each one he took. Rose didn't let herself think, worry, or stress. She just let herself _feel_, and in that moment, she found the rhythmic thumping relaxing. Steady. She opened her eyes slowly and found that her blurred vision had started clearing; the short, panicked breaths levelled out.

"You don't have to do this."

Rose laughed and it sounded hoarse even to her ears, "A bit too late for that now."

What had she been doing? Oh, right, _breathing_. She inhaled. Exhaled. _Fuck_, she lost the rhythm.

Despite the chill that came from being so _fucking high in the air_, a cold sweat ran down the back of her neck. Rose shut her eyes tight.

"It's never too late." How the hell was he so _calm_? "I know you're only up here because you're too stubborn to go back."

Maybe she was on the verge of a very well-deserved nervous breakdown. Or perhaps she was light-headed to the point where too many of her brain cells had atrophied. Either way, she caught hold of what Lavender had said yesterday and said, "Perhaps it's not a bad idea to do something I'm afraid of. Maybe it'll be thrilling?"

Her eyes were still closed, but she could practically _feel_ his doubt. "You're not a thrill-seeker, Rose. This isn't you."

"I'm surprising when I want to be."

Surprisingly stupid.

A gust of wind blew through them and she actually squeezed him tighter. Probably too tight because Scorpius sounded like he'd been punched in the stomach when he grunted, "Are you certain? You don't feel certain."

"Because I'm not!"

He chuckled and it was as if they were talking on the ground, talking like always. "That sounds more like it." Scorpius adjusted his grip on her. "If you insist on doing this, I won't say anything else to discourage you." His voice should have been lost in the wind, but she heard him clearly. "Just—do you think you can relax and trust that you're going to get through this without dying?"

"I _never_ said that."

"You've been practically whispering it since we got up here."

Rose lifted her head long enough to glare him down, which only made him grin in return, his small dimple just on the corner of his mouth. Scorpius had left his glasses with the workers on the ground, which had made for an interesting ride up to the platform as Rose had spent more time worrying about his near blindness than her fear.

"Oi! Are you both ready?" the platform attendant asked. "You're all set."

Scorpius made a small oof noise when Rose squeezed him tighter, but answered, "We are."

"Speak for yourself!" She tensed when another gust of wind blew around them.

"Give us a moment," he told the bloke, sounding far too humoured for her liking.

He gave a chuckle. "Take as long as you need."

After that, even though they were on the platform overlooking the city, they may as well have been alone. Scorpius moved them closer to the edge, saying nothing about the cold sweat on her skin, nothing about the fact that she was shaking like a leaf and holding on to him tighter than ever before.

"_Breathe_," he told her when she started quietly panting, throat tight and feeling out of control. Her head was spinning as self-preservation fought back a bit too late. She felt his breath on her forehead when he said, "You can do this," in that rumbly, deeper voice she felt in her chest. Rose closed her eyes tight again, trying to find her centre and focus, locking on to it. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered, understanding the reality behind the truth of her answer.

Rose didn't trust him because she _had_ to trust someone; it had always been about who he was to her. His importance and place in her life, the bond that held them tighter than the harnesses that physically tied them together. It had always been about everything that made him _Scorpius_. He'd never once given her a reason _not_ to trust him. He'd seen her at her very best and worst – more than once – and never so much as thought about abandoning her.

Never thought less of her.

Never judged her or talked down to her.

Still looked her in the eyes and told her that she was everything he'd ever wanted.

"Are you ready?"

Rose focused on his question, his touch, and the steady beat of his heart. She allowed everything to fill the panicked spaces of her mind. "_Yes_."

Then he tipped them over the edge.

The moment her brain had actually registered the fact that they were _fucking falling_ – and she'd left her stomach on the damn platform – there had been an indescribable rush of adrenaline unlike _anything_ she'd ever felt. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't see. Rose gritted her teeth, clutching to him with everything she had. It was _terrifying_ and _cold_ with the wind rushing up all around them, but she held on tight, her body so rigid that it should have _ached_ had she been able to feel anything at all.

But then the cord went taught and they rebounded – no longer falling, but _flying_.

The shock of it had made Rose abandon every bit of composure; all of the focus she'd so tenuously gathered had just _shredded_. She actually _heard_ herself start screaming like a bloody banshee and swearing worse than her dad when the Cannons lost. And then Rose wondered if she'd been screaming and cursing all along.

_Probably_.

For two breaths, they were suspended in animation, not falling or flying.

For one second, Rose opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of the world around her.

She couldn't see the city, its tall buildings, or bridges. Couldn't hear car horns, boats, or general commotion. But Rose saw endless blue skies with puffy clouds that kept the sun from blinding them. She heard Scorpius yelling – not in horror, but rather, excitement because he was a _lunatic_. Felt him tightening his hold on her…

Then they were plummeting towards the ground again.

Everything blurred as they went through a series of bounces before they were finally lowered into the thick air cushion on the ground. Rose wasn't sure when she'd actually released her hold on him or when the attendants separated them. All she knew was one minute, they were on the landing mat, and the next she was being freed from the last of the safety equipment.

"I am _never_ doing that again!" Rose stumbled backwards. "_Fuck_!"

Everyone around them laughed while they made quick work of unhooking Scorpius. Unsteady on her feet and disoriented, she bent forward, hands on her knees; nauseous but unspeakably relieved to be back on solid ground.

Bloody hell, declaration aside, she'd _actually_ done it.

Rose looked up at the platform where they had come from. It was still far, but she'd—no, _they'd_ done it together. Rose briefly thought about kissing the ground, and _would have_, had she not looked up and caught the sight of Scorpius.

_Oh._

Maybe it was because her stomach was still on that platform, brain still falling, and body on the ground – all at the same time – but Rose found herself struck by his physical presence.

Disoriented.  
Breathless.  
Stunned.

The attendants were busy taking off his harness and the last of his straps, buzzing around him like bees, but he just stood there like none of that mattered. Stood there and stared at Rose in a way that made her throat dry and her heart quicken in her chest. And she _knew_, logically, that he couldn't even see her because she was too far and he was practically blind, but—wow.

_Wow_.

_Shit_.

Scorpius had always been so understated, choosing to show his power in every way except outright hostility. But right then… everything about him commanded absolute attention in a way that she hadn't ever seen. And she paid attention because – _fuck_ – she couldn't help herself.

He was flushed like he had been after each run and every Quidditch game, hair wild and windblown, sticking in all directions. His eyes were brighter without his glasses. Bluer, if that was possible. His face was stretched in a wide grin that was open and boyishly free, more radiant than the sun that was tucked behind the clouds.

_To me, you're everything I've ever wanted._

And maybe it was because she was overwhelmed by the experience, maybe it was because her emotions were stretched across the four corners of the sky, and everything hadn't snapped back into place, but by the _gods_, he was—

"_Gorgeous_," came a stranger's voice from right next to her.

Um. Where the _hell_ had she come from?

The girl was taller than Rose, as most people were, with dark hair. She wore the same uniform as the attendants working to get him unhooked, but instead of helping, she seemed content with chewing her gum and ogling Scorpius. "Oh, here. Certificates of Completion for you and your boyfriend. _Cheers_!"

"_What?_" Rose asked breathlessly, but numbly accepted the certificates.

She never got an answer.

"Can blokes even _be_ gorgeous?" the girl asked herself, then looked over at Scorpius again, mouth pursed in thought. Then she decided, "Gods, _yes_," and shouted, "_Oi!_" at someone Rose couldn't even see.

Then she walked away.

Rose was still trying to process her own thoughts, the exchange, and the certificates when someone handed Scorpius his glasses and he put them on. In fact, she was so lost in her dimension of _what the actual fuck had just happened_ that she barely registered that he was approaching her until he was _right there_. His smile was so brilliant that it _hurt_. It had taken her back two weeks, and left her a lingering urge to snog that stupid grin off his face.

Right then and there.

_What_.

"We're the ten million, not the one," she blurted out instead.

If at all possible, his grin got even brighter as his eyes softened to something strangely fond. _Gods_. Right then, looking directly at a solar eclipse was a more favourable option because Rose felt wobbly and strangely warm, despite the chill she'd caught from the wind.

Then it faded into something warm and familiar before he said, "You were _brilliant_."

And right then, her stomach decided that was the perfect moment to jump off the platform and catch up with her falling mind, before they both crash-landed into her body. The collision was clumsy and violent, causing Rose to stagger backwards and bend forward, trying to catch her breath. And when the now concerned Scorpius asked again if she was okay, Rose responded by losing her breakfast on the ground between them.

* * *

Her mother looked far too happy listening to Rose lament about her day.

"I only _just_ missed Scorpius' trainers."

It obviously wasn't the first time he'd ever dodged vomit.

Her mum was chuckling in that fond, empathetic tone most parents seemed to have perfected after years of dealing with their children's antics. "Oh, _love_."

Which actually meant _you poor thing_.

Or her mum's attempt at softening the blow without making her feel bad.

Appropriate for the situation, really.

Well, according to the workers who had been ready with the clean-up, her reaction had been normal for a first-time jumper. Especially one with a fear of heights. Jane had emphasised the point when they got back to the group. After convincing everyone that she was fine, she and Scorpius had sat on a bench and watched everyone go. He made sure that she at least sipped the water they'd provided, but Rose was too busy counting how many times he hesitated before taking her hand.

_Four_.

Oh, and quietly trying to get over what the hell had happened.

Three hours later, and Rose still hadn't quite gotten over it.

After everyone had finished, Jane volunteered to see her home because she thought Rose still looked a bit peaky. Of course, Astoria had _insisted_ that she do just that, stating it was just fine for Rose to skip the catered brunch at Mr. Draco's city flat just a short distance away. She'd made sure to emphasise her worry for Rose's condition with a look far too saccharine to be genuine.

Hell, even _Joseph_ had noticed it and he was the most tactless of all the brothers.

Teddy's eyebrow had almost vanished into his hairline.

Rose had just smiled thinly and made sure she used the proper silverware when she ate her _two_ plates of food while Scorpius' cousins watched with barely suppressed awe.

As if she would ever let a little sick get in the way of her appetite.

"Well," her mother said after she'd slathered enough Sleakeazy's on Rose's hair to force it into compliance in preparation for the afternoon festivities. "I'm proud of you for following through. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did."

Rose smiled to herself, biting the corner of her mouth.

"You know," her mum noted as she worked the product from her roots to her ends. "I don't think I've _ever_ seen you get sick like that. You usually have a cast-iron stomach, like your dad."

"It's a gift."

Her mother tilted her head to the side, still on her train of thought as she started working on their agreed-upon half up/half down style of soft curls and two complicated braids that started by her ears and met under a dainty owl hair pin. Rose had _not_ agreed on the pin, but her mum was convinced it matched her dress.

They compromised.

"_Actually_," and Rose rolled her eyes at her mum's tone because she could tell she wasn't finished with her previous statement. _Gods_. "I think the _only_ time I've ever seen your dad randomly projectile vomit – outside of the slugs – was when he realised that he honest-to-god loved me for the first time. We were talking when he got a weird look on his face, and was sick in his cereal. Took him a bit to realise that _love_ had been what he was feeling when he'd gotten sick, but when he put the pieces together, he told me…well, _shouted_ it at me, really. It was quite terrible."

Rose smacked her palm over her face, groaning.

And _that_ was part of the reason why she'd never been good at relationships or even _understood_ them outside of fiction and the telly. She had no idea how they worked in the real world, no idea how to navigate them, and had no clue about _anything_ concerning reading another person's intentions before they flat out told her. Rose had started practicing wandless magic Fifth Year out of boredom and necessity. She had understood most all subjects with little effort, but _hardly_ understood something as basic as her _own_ complicated feelings.

Until recently, Rose hadn't thought much on the topic. Or at all. But then she'd lost her mind, snogged Scorpius twice, and _now_ she'd been elevated to everything he'd ever wanted. And fuck—what was she supposed to do about that?

It was scary mostly, but incredibly _frustrating_.

Day by day, since the night in front of her building, that irritation had only grown.

Rose had dated plenty of blokes for all the wrong reasons – that much was true. But perhaps the reason she'd dated them was because she hadn't known the right reasons. Well, outside of basic attraction, lust, and their interest in her that had fed her ego and physical desires, but not much else.

And wow, that sounded quite terrible when she thought about it like that. But that had been the awfully accurate portrayal of the calamity of mixed emotions that had followed her from relationship to relationship ever since her first one.

Which was probably why nothing had ever lasted.

Rose found herself wondering what it was that _actually_ made a relationship last. How did the concept of committing oneself to another person even work logically? What was the purpose? What made two people look at each other _every single day_ and make the decision to hold on instead of give up? Why would they even bother when it seemed so hard? Better yet, how could _anything_ work when it seemed like the moment two people found happiness, something new and complicated would present itself and threaten that balance between them?

"You're brooding, love. What's on your mind?"

And even though the thoughts occupied so much of her mind right, Rose could hardly find the right question… even though she wanted the answers. "Uh…"

"I find it best when you just blurt out whatever it is that you're thinking about so hard."

Rose was awfully dubious. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, mum."

And she shrugged, "Works for your dad." Because _that_ was a real answer.

Unconvinced, she took a breath and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"To me, you're everything I've ever wanted."

Which made sense for that to be it because she'd been thinking about that for days – no, _weeks_.

Her mum's hands froze and Rose watched in the mirror as her face went through a series of complicated changes before carefully stating, "Scorpius said that to you."

And the fact that it hadn't been a question, but a _statement_ felt like a cold slap to the face.

Rose visibly recoiled, sputtering like the old car in her grandad's shed. How the _hell_ had she known? Had Lily talked to her? Rose nearly leapt from her stool – as the conversation had rapidly devolved into something she no longer wanted to discuss, but firm hands on her shoulders kept her seated.

Which hadn't inspired much in the spirit of mother/daughter unity.

"Use your words, love," she said calmly.

Word vomit was becoming a regular habit of hers. "How the fuc—"

"Language."

Rose shut her mouth, rolled her eyes, took a breath, and asked her question again with no swearing. Because she'd inherited her mother's ability to be a complete nightmare, she made certain her mum knew _exactly_ how put out she was. "Pray tell, _mother_." The responding glare she received made her smirk briefly before sobering, scratching the back of her hand. "I'm being serious, okay? How did you know Scorpius said that to me?"

"Oh, _love_." Which had not been a good start, but Rose was working on listening before reacting negatively. She'd been doing a better job of it for quite some time. Not perfect, but _better_. "Do you want the truth or what you can handle right now?"

And that… was complicated. The latter sounded easier, but she'd ripped off so many bandages in the last couple of weeks, what was another one? "The truth."

Her mum hadn't expected the answer, her face said as much, but then she patted Rose's shoulder and ruined her _entire day_. "I've known how he's felt about you probably longer than _he's_ known." Rose nearly choked on air at that – because before two weeks ago, she'd had _no idea_. Her mum patted her back patiently until she recovered but then _continued_ on as if she hadn't already said enough. "Honestly, love, _everyone_ knows. Even his grandparents _and_ your dad, who just figured it out after the Gala. Of course, his grandparents aren't _pleased_, but considering how strained their relationship is with his father because of their disapproval of his mother, I—Rose, you _have_ to breathe."

Ah, yes.

Breathing was necessary, but what was air?

The entire room had constricted around her as she tried to grasp everything her mum had said. _What?_ And she supposed she wasn't breathing well enough because her mother turned her stool around and hugged her close – careful not to mess with her hair creation, but making sure she took a deep breath and instructed Rose to do the same.

She just blinked. What?

But then Rose inhaled and thought about her vicious row with Lily, the things she had said and assumptions she'd made about not giving a damn about his feelings. _What feelings?_ She exhaled. _How can he see me as more when you're there?_ Rose inhaled deeply, allowing her mind to wand further back to her many arguments with Astoria, particularly the last one at the Gala. Then she exhaled until she had no air left. _I do wonder if you'll continue to monopolize all his time and prevent him from meeting his future wife?_

Every time someone had tried to tell her, she'd dismissed them.

She inhaled and thought back to her talk with Jane and Quincy while paining ugly dinosaurs. _What Quincy is talking about are romantic feelings._ Exhaled and thought about what Jane had said. _You and Scorpius have a special relationship._ The same bloody statement that had led to them snogging outside The Burrow. _Jane thinks your presence balances my energy._

And what had he said?

_Even the mad make valid points sometimes._

Why hadn't he _said_ anything?

But maybe he had been trying to tell her… in his own way.

He'd stayed the night so she could sleep and was always reading something relevant to the dagger research. He ran in the mornings, made sure she ate more than crisps for breakfast, and helped her search for a therapist to help her mental health. He was more open now with the things he said. _I wanted to_. He smiled and touched her often, his hesitation more tangible than before, but his resolve always seemed to win out. And while Rose had always been tactile with him, now it felt different enough to truly acknowledge the fact that his touch felt both old…

And so very new.

"Are you better?" her mum asked gently, pulling back to look her over. "You've gone so red."

"Um." Rose _actually_ felt like bursting into tears because she was all mixed and messed up; split in all directions, _consumed_ by all the questions in her head that had no answers. But tears felt dramatic, even for her, because who cried because their best friend had feelings for them?

Well, _sometimes_ they did in books, but Rose was in the real world and couldn't let herself.

So, she swallowed repeatedly, breathing deeply and pinching the bridge of her nose until the urge to sob uncontrollably subsided. When she could speak, Rose asked her mother a question that made her so vulnerable she could hardly choke it out. "What am I supposed to do?"

Because she knew right then that she couldn't ignore it anymore.

Scorpius was a problem she had to face.

And she was scared for so many reasons she couldn't articulate.

"I can't tell you." The look on her face was understanding, but also sort of sad. "You have to figure your feelings out for yourself."

That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. "Just bloody _fantastic_, mum."

She fixed one of the curls. "How did it feel today when you jumped?"

The question was so off topic that it had taken her by surprise. Rose blurted out the first thing she thought of in response, "I'm just glad I didn't piss myself. That was a _real_ possibility." At her _stop-using-humour-to-cover-your-feelings_ look her mum gave her, Rose sighed and lowered her head, allowing a few curls to fall over her shoulders and spoke honestly. "I wouldn't have been able to do it alone."

"Go on."

"I was beyond terrified, even with him there, but it was better." There had also been Rose's complete trust in him and the fact that she'd had the strange urge to snog him blind after, but she hadn't been able to verbalise _any_ of that yet. It still felt like too much. "I don't know how that question will answer what I'm supposed to feel about all this, but there it is."

"You're my daughter, and I _know_ you're struggling with all this right now. It pains me." And she touched Rose's cheek when she continued. "But I can't _imagine_ what Scorpius must be going through right now."

She almost recoiled.

Her mother was worried about what he was going through? That was bloody _rich_.

"Scorpius is… very much himself."

"Is he?" she asked, giving her a look with a slight incline of her brow. "Think about it."

And Rose didn't have to because she already knew the answer. He had changed. In a very subtle way that just who he was as a person. But it was there – noticeable to her at certain times. In hindsight, at least. Like after the Gala when he started carrying around the articles. His birthday. The night outside The Burrow when he was cagier than usual. And even today with all his hesitation to touch her.

Her mum didn't wait for a verbal answer before asking another question. "Do you know what's scariest about having feelings for someone?"

Rose squirmed in her seat. "Mum, I—"

"It's not easy, it never gets easier, and he's been sorting through this for quite some time. You see, having feelings for someone forces you to confront your humanity – your shortcomings, anxieties, and fears of rejection and failure. It's painful to sort through all that alone, but you can't help it. Your heart wants what it wants. So, you try to figure them out, try to learn them, understand them. Or maybe by the time you realise how you feel, you _already_ know them, which is probably why you have feelings in the first place. Then, the next step is trying to show them in every way possible how you feel, which is problematic because you can't do that carefully. It's the only thing in life that you shouldn't plan out."

She raised her brow at her mother, who had attempted to plan _everything_ – even the day that Rose was born, but she'd thrown all her mum's best laid plans into the wind by coming into the world three weeks early and angry about it. "Um…"

Her mother gave her a soft look. "I know that's odd coming from me, but it's true. To tell someone how you feel involves laying out your weaknesses, putting yourself at risk, taking a leap of faith, and hoping that the fall won't hurt. For someone as practical and analytical as Scorpius, doing that is _incredibly_ difficult. He's got abandonment issues on top of that, so it was even more difficult for him. But he calculated the risks _repeatedly_, weighed out his options, the pros and con, and so many other factors that only _he_ knows. But he's done all that and _still_ believes that you're worth the massive gamble he's taken in telling you."

Rose's chest felt oddly tight and tried to swallow the feeling before it strangled her.

"But the struggle isn't over for him. Once the words are out, there's no going back. He's lowered his fortifications and left himself completely defenceless to you. He's given you the power to _hurt him_… and all he can do is hope against all hope that you won't, that you'll choose to walk through the gates and take care of what he wants to give you."

Her mum reached for the handkerchief on the vanity and Rose wondered why until she felt the tears running down her face. Was she _crying_? She touched her cheek and stared at her wet fingertips, blinking rapidly. Yes. Yes, she was. "That sounds _awful_."

"It is." She dabbed Rose's eyes. "I've been where he is, but it's the choice that he's made and he believes _you're_ the right one."

And as Rose mulled over her words, over everything, she cried a little more and found there was nothing to say except one word: "_Fuck_."

"I'll allow it." Her mum patted her back sympathetically. "But just this once."

It took the clock chiming to signal the start of a new hour for Rose to shake herself from the heaviness she'd been drowning in since the start of the conversation – or the day. Or the last two weeks. Whichever. _Fuck_. "I-I should get ready. They'll be here soon."

Her mum patted her shoulder once more before she got to work, grabbing the eyelash curler to start the annoying process of applying makeup so Rose wouldn't look translucent. Or like she'd been crying her eyes out.

"Are you going with Quincy?" she asked in an attempt to make a safe subject change, probably to help set her right before she had to go out in public and make a complete idiot of herself.

Rose winced. "Scorpius asked me yesterday."

"_Oh_." The word came out far higher than normal, as if she were both surprised – _and not_ – all at the same time. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. In fairness, you did ask for the truth."

"The truth is uncomfortable." And painful. Not to mention _terrifying_ and overwhelming.

"That it is." She hummed as she started working, voice light. "But it would be _far_ more complicated and uncomfortable had you two broke the platonic rules of friendship."

Bloody hell.

"_Yep_," Rose gave a throaty chuckle. "Wouldn't that be _awful_ and _completely_ irresponsible?"

Her mother froze, tilting her head to the side as she dissected her response, separated Rose's words from her expression, researched through her own extensive memory banks to determine what each meant, and—oh, _hell_. Rose knew exactly what was coming, but was far too late to stop it. Before she could look away, shout for help from her dad, or _anything_ that would distract her mum, she turned on _the look_.

And Rose was powerless under its weight.

"You're _lying_."

"No, I'm not." Rose coughed weakly, trying to plan her escape. She could jump out the window, but she was quite done with falling for the day.

Besides, her mum had an eyelash curler and a wand… so resistance was likely futile.

"You have a tell, Rose. Every time you outright lie, and not one of your little half-truths, you try to sound too nonchalant, but there's always just a _hint_ of panic in your voice. I don't even think you notice when you do it either." _Huh?_ So _that_ had been what Henrietta was going on about at St. Mungo's? Well, she'd have to work on that as soon as possible. Meanwhile, her mother was jumping to all sorts of conclusions that were leading her down a slippery slope. "And if you're lying—oh _gods_."

"We _snogged_ twice!" Rose practically shouted, then cringed hard as she watched with bated breath for her mother's reaction. Or explosion. But her mum visibly relaxed, likely because the alternative was not a conversation that Rose wanted to have with _anyone_. And because well, she'd already come that far, she might as well tell her the rest of it. "On his birthday and after Uncle Charlie's welcome home dinner. The one the day after the Inquiry."

Her mother just blinked three times before she finally said something: "How was it?"

Which had not been the reaction Rose had expected. "_Mum!_"

In response, she tossed her head back and laughed.

"You're not helpful at all." Rose sulked.

She sobered just a bit, still smiling and looking a touch too excited. "You've _never_ talked about the boys you've dated with me. I know you two aren't, but indulge me a bit. I usually find out about them after they're over…and they're always over quick." And when Rose scowled, her mother's grin intensified. She looked almost manic. "I've _always_ wanted to have chats like this with you."

With a reluctant sigh, Rose rolled her eyes at her exuberance, but answered anyway. "It was…" Like tasting a colour or seeing a sound; like experiencing something so big and intense that it made her feel small. "…_good_?"

For her efforts at downplaying everything, Rose received a knowing smile. "_That_ good, huh? You're _blushing_."

"_Gah_," she covered her face with her hands. "You're not supposed to embarrass me, mum. You're supposed to help."

"There's nothing I can say to help you." At that, Rose peeked out from behind her hands, frowning deeply. Her mother fixed a curl and angled her head up so she could start putting on her makeup. "I can't tell you how you feel, but I _can_ suggest that you don't do him a disservice by taking anything he's said lightly. But I think the fact that you're stressed and wanting to do something speaks louder than you think, especially since this is the sort of thing you would once bury and ignore. Your acknowledgement of it means that you know you need to do _something_."

"Mum…" Rose groaned.

"Okay, okay." She yielded. "In my opinion, you already know how you feel. It's up there," she pointed to her own head. "And in here," she put her hands over her heart. "It may be all jumbled up with everything else you're going through, but it's _there_ in the midst of all the clutter, so clear it out and you'll find your answer." Then she gave Rose a small, wincing smile. "And when you do, be a dear and not be… well, not yourself about it."

"_Oi!_" was her instinctive reply. "What does that even _mean_?"

"You know how you are, love."

Which actually was an incredibly fair statement, because Rose knew _exactly_ how she was.

"I know you're trying harder than I've _ever_ seen you try before, and we agreed to acknowledge the positives and not the negatives," her mum started gently. "With that being said, you aren't the most open person, especially concerning your emotions. You can argue about anything, and sometimes, I'll confess I don't know how your mind works. But you can't talk even about a bit of snogging and—"

Rose snorted out loud and it earned her a look from her mother.

What?

_That_ had been _more_ than a bit of snogging, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Be as open with him as he's been with you. Or try to be, at least."

And then her mother started applying makeup, but decided to put away the blush because Rose no longer needed it. She kept her eyes shut and thought about everything, tried to shrug off the weight of it all, but found it too heavy to move. But then she thought about what her mum had said about Scorpius and his struggles… and resolved herself to take the advice she'd been given.

"What time does everything start? It's nearly one."

"Al, Jane, and Scorpius said they would be here in thirty minutes."

Which had made her mum kick into a higher gear, finishing her makeup and helping her into her dress robes. Twenty-nine minutes later, they stood together in front of the floor length mirror next to the vanity and just looked at the results of her mum's hard work. And speaking of, her mother was the picture of a frazzled parent standing next to her: hair extra bushy, light sheen of sweat on her forehead; eyes cheerful but tired enough to sleep for a week. She clasped her hands together and beamed at Rose's reflection. "You look _stunning_, love."

Rose had never quite felt like herself when she dressed up, but that day was a little different.

Perhaps it was because she was wearing robes that weren't borrowed. She had purchased them a while back for the secret extendable _pockets_ – where her wand and snacks were comfortably located – but hadn't thought about it for the Gala last month. The dress was mostly white with silver and gold shimmer and intricate detailing. She'd known the material was tulle because that had been the first thing her mum had said when Rose had showed her the dress robes. It felt nice and light. Comfortable even though it was too long. Rose wasn't particularly keen on giving anyone any reason to talk about her by falling on her face.

Or on Scorpius'.

_Fuck._

She was in the midst of a cringe when her mum suddenly held up a finger and raced off, returning a few moments later with a book on spells to help with fixing clothes – probably from her grandmum. After a few additional looks, her mother hemmed the bottom with magic so it only swept the floor, giving Rose just a tiny glimpse of her silver ballet slippers – because heels were definitely _not on_. Then she took it in at the waist a little. "It's not supposed to be too loose there…that's much better."

Rose _had_ to admit it looked better – more flattering – after her mother's small touches.

"Thanks mum."

"I think—" They both stopped abruptly at the faint jingle of the wards that announced the arrival of Scorpius. The wards told her that he was alone, which had been odd because Al and Jane were supposed to come with him, but no matter.

After giving a shrug, Rose left her parents' room after her mother shooed her out because they were going to be late if she had taken any longer. No one was ever on time for a party. Well, except her mum. With a shake of her head, she took the stairs slowly, holding her dress robes up just enough for her to see each foot connect with the correct step.

To make sure she didn't tumble down them. _Again_.

Peeking around the corner, Rose first spotted him standing in her parents' sitting room listening to her dad as he talked loudly from the kitchen. "The Falmouth Falcons are _definitely_ going to lose their first game of the second half of the season. They're up against the best team in the league!"

Scorpius gave a noncommittal shrug as if her dad could actually see him and said, "Even if they lose, they'll still be ahead of The Cannons."

Which made her dad yell, _"Oi!"_ and drop a few things that sounded like pots.

Rose's laughter brought attention to herself, but she had already seen him first.

Scorpius had abandoned the black robes, bowtie, and vest ensemble he'd always worn to public events, opting instead for a combination that was more casual. More himself. Still proper, but approachable – if a little modest. He wore charcoal grey robes that fit perfectly, a white dress shirt, and a black tie. Simple. His blond hair was parted on one side and slicked back. The only thing out of place had been his glasses, but he fixed them on his face and gave her a small, private smile that had an overwhelming and new meaning after her conversation with her mum.

Everything felt new and weird and that made her feel scattered and disoriented.

"Hey."

Rose awkwardly waved, and made sure she didn't trip over her own feet while she shuffled over to him; the weight of her mum's words resting on her shoulders, but she tried to remain normal. Normal was needed right then. "Where are Al and Jane?"

"I left to come to you because his mum got carried away with pictures." As she had been known to do from time to time. In fact, her aunt had been the one to give Rose her first camera that launched her on-and-off love for photography. It was the only hobby of hers that she'd ever come back to a second time. Scorpius cleared his throat, causing her to look up at him and… well, he looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Ah, are we going to wait here for them?"

"Al said they'll meet us there."

Rose nodded, looking down at the floor as she found herself worrying about things she'd never thought about before. Well, that wasn't true. On some level, she'd always been concerned about him; always watching out for signs that he was going too far into his own head and pulling him out again. Lately, she hadn't been doing as good of a job; too preoccupied with life's drama, but Rose was determined to be better from then on. For him.

Because, regardless, he'd always done the same for her.

"All right?" Rose asked him, face tense with concern. He was so private and everything felt different because _she_ was part of his troubles that he kept secret from the world.

She wanted him happy, not bothered.

He looked surprised by her question, but then his face softened as a smile slowly spread. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I… I don't know." She tried to smile, but it didn't feel right because of just how hard her heart had been hammering in her chest. Rose settled for a self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm just being my normal barmy self. Ignore me. We should probably go…" The words died in her mouth when his fingers slipped between hers.

She almost jerked her hand back, but their hands were already interlaced.

For the second time that day, Rose looked at him for the first time.

_Now_, she understood the heat in his eyes and the meaning behind all the intense looks he'd been giving her over the last few weeks. Or months. _Years?_ A shiver went down her spine. Despite her efforts, a picture burst forth in her eyelids of Scorpius in the very moment he'd gripped the blanket and lost all control outside the Burrow and—Rose sputtered.

What was he doing?  
What was _she_ doing?

In all the times he'd taken her hand, Rose had never _once_ thought about snatching it back. Not until right then when her tongue had swelled to three times its size in her mouth. But the moment of weirdness abruptly ended when he said, "Your mother's taking photos."

Rose's eyes darted over to where her mother stood behind the smaller sofa, snapping away. And likely had been for quite some time as she'd moved the box of research from the sofa to the coffee table.

In response, she cut her eyes at her mum who just winked. _"Be open."_

She scowled. "You're the _worst_." And Scorpius, unaware of it all, started laughing.

Her mother continued snapping photos. "I love you, too. Now, be a love and step closer to her, Scorpius… yes, yes just like that…"

* * *

Astoria's birthday celebration was held at the centre of the Greengrass Estate's gardens under an enormous invisible dome of magic that blocked out the elements, outdoor noises, and any potential press lurking around.

Not that it mattered, because the weather was perfect for a party.

Only partially blocked by clouds, the afternoon sun bathed everything it could in light, but not too much. High under the dome were colourful sky lanterns, unlit for now, but Rose figured that later, after the sky had darkened, the lanterns would be used to brighten the room with low lighting that still offered a perfect view of an inky sky filled with twinkling stars.

The atmosphere had been different from any other high-society party she'd ever attended, far more relaxed than the gala had been. There was an almost casual feel to the party that Rose hadn't quite expected. The women wore brighter colours while some of the men stuck to more traditional darker tones. Honestly, she had no idea what to expect as she'd never been invited to Astoria's celebrations in the past. As many times as she'd interacted with Scorpius' mother, as much as they argued, she realised that she didn't know much about her as a person… outside their mutual dislike and her tension with her son.

And from looking around, Rose realised there might be more to Astoria than she'd realised.

There were at over seventy nicely-dressed people spread out under the dome – some were strangers even to Scorpius. They were milling around, taking in their surroundings.

And it was a lot to take in.

They spotted Mr. Draco's parents sitting at a table full of rather aristocratic witches and wizards who were all looking around like they had something smelly under their noses. Scorpius made sure they stopped by first. His grandmother hugged him and told him how handsome he looked, while his grandfather nodded politely at Rose.

"Afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

"Miss Weasley." Rose made certain she kept her face perfectly blank because while his expression was calm and meditative and his voice as smooth and well-modulated as ever, Rose knew he was slick as a recently polished broom. When Lucius spoke again, she couldn't help but wonder if he was trying something new – well, something other than asking her odd questions about fifteen-year plans and Gringotts accounts. "Scorpius told us yesterday that you have returned to work."

"I have." She left it at that because she knew better than to speak too freely around him.

His face twitched and he glanced over at his wife, who was giving him a look similar to the one her mum gave her dad when she wanted him to behave. _What?_ Grey eyes cut back over to Rose and they stared at each other for a moment. It felt like a challenge. Then he asked, "Has it been a smooth transition?"

And despite her confusion at his attempt at small talk, Rose trained her face to remain completely neutral and answered his question. "It has."

Then they stared at each other again.

Definitely a challenge.

"Have you seen my dad?" Scorpius asked his grandfather, giving her the out she needed.

Rose never heard his response because Narcissa was ready with a prim look and a compliment. "Such _lovely_ dress robes."

"Thanks, it has pockets." When she put her hands in them to show her, Scorpius smothered his laughter with a cough. And before Rose could glare at him properly, he allowed his grandfather to introduce him to the others at their table.

Meanwhile, his grandmother looked woefully out of her depth, but managed a smile. "That's nice, dear."

At a loss for words, Rose complimented her vintage navy robes. "You look great, too."

"Thank you." Narcissa's smile turned a bit more genuine, softer, and it was almost bizarre, but not really. While she generally avoided her at all costs, his grandmother wasn't so bad when she wasn't trying to give Rose lessons on propriety. Or stuffy Malfoy family traditions. Rose watched her eyes flicker over to Lucius, who was introducing Scorpius to an elderly wizard wearing his Order of Merlin – Second Class pin, then back at her. "Lucius and I have reservations for the grand opening of Fanged Geranium next Wednesday. Will you join us?"

_Us?_ Rose almost blanched. The thought of dressing up for dinner at a posh restaurant with the short list of those the word _'us'_ could refer to was the _last thing on Earth_ she wanted to do. She wanted to eat and not have to play nice, think, challenge-stare at Lucius Malfoy from across the table while holding a damn salad fork. Furthermore, the invitation hadn't made much sense as they had never invited her to dine with them before.

"While I appreciate the invitation, I'm having dinner with my parents that night."

"Pity." It was odd because she sounded genuine. "Perhaps next time, then."

"Perhaps."

From there, they walked around and took everything in. The decorations were stunning and the layout of the room only amplified it. There were decorated tables that circled the dance floor where a band played while people danced. They couldn't hear the music, as it had been warded to lock in the sound, but everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves. Outside the dance floor, there was music coming from unmanned instruments and amplified by magic.

The matriarch of the Greengrass family stood not too far away from the Malfoy's table, laughing with several of her friends. When she spotted them, she waved them over with the exuberance she had always been known for. Well that, her temper, love for bold colours, and the fact that she was even shorter than Rose. Speaking of bold colours, Astoria's mother wore knee-length aquamarine blue robes and a matching wide-brimmed hat.

"It's _enormous_," she whispered to Scorpius as they approached.

He leaned over and teasingly murmured, "Visible from space. Just how she likes it."

Rose was still red-faced from laughing when Scorpius bent over to hug his other grandmother.

"Scorpius, love," she greeted him fondly, pulling back to look at him closely. "It's so good to see you. You look _so_ handsome." She turned her attention to Rose, who prayed she wasn't going to be subjected to a hug of any sort. "Rose dear, as always, you look like a _gem_. _Love_ that you've kept your natural red. It's so _vibrant_. That auburn you had was just so _dull_."

"Um…thanks?" What else was she supposed to say?

She turned back to her grandson. "I _do_ wish you two had stopped to see me first before seeing the Malfoys, but I suppose you didn't see me standing here."

Rose seriously considered slowly backing away and making a beeline for freedom because – well, when the heads of the Malfoy and Greengrass families started up their war of words, tactical retreat had always been the only option.

Outside of the clash between the traditional Malfoy family versus the liberal Greengrass family, the Malfoys had never liked that Mr. Draco had married Astoria against their wishes, and the Greengrass family never liked their treatment of her as a result. They each blamed the other for his parents' separation.

The admittedly few dinners Rose had attended had been like being in the middle of a cinematic standoff: she had no idea who was going to fire off the first shot until someone got hit. Scorpius once told her of a dinner when his grandmother – in the middle of their too frequent arguments about Scorpius' future as the head of the Malfoy family – had sighed and said, _"Draco would have been better off marrying Daphne. At least there would have been more children to argue over."_

The comment marked the last of their bi-annual combined family dinners, the last time Mr. Draco would speak to either of his parents for a solid year, and the longest stretch between his mother's visits.

Scorpius was far better at navigating through the thorny vines of his family; having the ability to weave in and out with very little effort or wounds. Case in point, at his grandmother's comment, he just smirked and said, "I've saved the best for last."

And she gave him a fond smile in return and playfully smacked on the arm. "Oh, you've become _quite_ the charmer, haven't you?" He just gave her a smirk that made him look so much like his father, who she actually liked. Then she looked at Rose. "How can you resist this face?"

Rose did a very good impression of a fish on dry land.

She could almost _feel_ how red her face had gotten.

"You're adorable," his grandmother grinned at her before glancing over at Scorpius. "Go on, you two. Enjoy the party and its activities." And she shooed them off, turning around to jump back into the conversation with her friends. She didn't seem to miss a beat.

Scorpius' smirk transformed to an awkward little chuckle. "Sorry about that."

"No worries." Rose fanned her face and brought her cold fingers to her cheeks. "It's nice to see her when she and Narcissa aren't at each other's throats in some sort of alpha female cage match."

He laughed.

And to distract herself from her weird feelings, she started looking around. "Now, where are these activities she's talking about?"

It didn't take them long to find them.

In each corner of the room was a different activity: A Seer reading tea leaves, Amortentia smelling, a raffle for tickets to the Quidditch World Cup that summer (proceeds would be donated to towards research into incurable diseases), magical photo booths, fairy wine tasting, floating trays of food for anyone peckish and drinks for anyone thirsty.

Rose found herself most interested in trying everything.

Well, not the tea leaves. Neither of them had bothered to even take Divination.

But first, they purchased tickets for the charity lottery. The line was too long for the photo booths, so they stopped and smelled Amortentia. Scorpius went first and after taking a whiff of the milky liquid, he frowned so hard it made her laugh. "What does it smell like?"

"Like burnt popcorn… soap… and fire…"

Which was odd.

Rose smelled it for herself. "Books… ozone… and something sort of woodsy."

Like sandalwood.

"What does ozone smell like?"

She shrugged as she sat the vial down. "Sort of like the outdoors early in the morning when it's cool and crisp out."

At that response he made a noncommittal noise, and Rose saw a space at the fairy wine tasting table and led the way. They were in no hurry, just looking around, pointing at things and people they'd recognised but hadn't wanted to approach. She caught a glimpse of Quincy and Henrietta getting their tea leaves read and spotted Mr. Draco talking and laughing with three men.

"My dad's friends," Scorpius whispered in her ear and Rose nearly crawled out of her skin at his sudden proximity. Her stomach clenched. "Mr. Zabini, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Nott. Do you want to say hello?" Rose swallowed when his fingers brushed against hers, thinking back to her mother's words.

_I've known how he's felt about you probably longer than he's known._

There was a small rational part of her mind screaming for her to stop, but Rose wanted to turn her head. That little bit that said _don't_ had been easily snuffed out by the more urgent need to look, to see, to know, to satisfy that sudden insatiable curiosity that wondered how close was too close. That little bit in her that wanted to look him in the eye when she answered his question.

_Wanted_… well, it didn't matter because Astoria practically materialised in front of them. She wore lilac robes and her hair pulled back into a complicated style. She beamed at her son. "You look so handsome."

"Mother." He greeted her with a polite air kiss.

Greetings over, Rose kept her face perfectly blank as Astoria looked her up and down. "Miss Weasley."

"Mrs. Malfoy." And she thought about leaving it there, but she was on her best behaviour at the moment. Because they'd never had an exchange that hadn't ended with one of them storming off, Rose tried. _Really tried_. "Everything looks great."

Astoria gave her a tight smile for her effort. "Of course, it does." However, before Scorpius – whose mouth opened to retort – could say anything she slid up next to him, sliding her arm around his and linking theirs together. "Before you start frowning like your father, there are some people I'd like you to meet." She looked over at Rose, smiling thinly. "If you'll excuse us, Miss Weasley."

"Mother, it would be rude of me to leave my date alone."

She had a challenging look on her face when she asked, "You don't mind, Rose, right?"

Now, Rose had _never_ been one to back down from a challenge, but it was her birthday and she was giving her latitude as Scorpius' mother. So, she didn't speak the first words that had come to mind – _fuck off_.

Because that would have been rude.

Instead, Rose nodded and fixed her face into a polite smile that was only marginally forced. "I don't mind. Al and Jane should be somewhere around here." To Scorpius, she said, "It's fine. Go mingle, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

The nod she gave him was softer, more genuine than the words she'd given his mother. "Yes."

"I'll be back soon," And he allowed his mother to lead the way, glancing back at her just once.

Rose stuck out her tongue at his mum's back, which made him smile in response before they vanished from her line of sight.

For several minutes, Rose wandered without a true direction. She wasn't looking for her friends, but had she run into them, she would have liked the company. That all changed when she caught sight of a familiar redhead on the arm of a vaguely familiar wizard. Rose should not have been surprised that her cousin had managed to obtain an invite, considering how she and Astoria had been chatting during the Gala last month, but it felt like a blow seeing her again.

They locked eyes and held each other's gaze for a moment before Rose looked away.

Walked away.

She thought about tasting the fairy wine or maybe taking photos in the booth, but decided against both in favour of finding a table in the corner and continuing with her life-long tradition of being a complete wallflower. It worked for her. Besides, she had a better view.

Rose was alone about an hour before someone joined her.

"Why, if it isn't Rose Weasley."

She knew the voice immediately and turned her head, giving Scorpius' aunt a look that only made her smile. Daphne was probably the only witch in the entire room wearing all black. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in an intricate bun that wasn't at all like her sister's. She was holding two flutes of something that looked bubbly, wearing an almost friendly look on her face.

"Why, if it isn't Daphne Flint," Rose mocked playfully, which made the older witch tilt her head back and laugh.

She handed Rose one of the flutes and nodded when she took a healthy sip. It was sweet and bubbly and she finished it quickly before accepting the second flute she was holding out to her.

"There now." Daphne smirked. "Do you think the wall will fall without you holding it up?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Do you think you could look any less like a funeral attendant?"

Daphne stared at her for a beat, then they both started laughing.

Scorpius had horror stories about her, but Rose had always liked his aunt. She had such a low tolerance for any sort of bullshit and was extremely direct, but Rose thought it had a lot to do with the fact that she was the mother of three wizards.

Daphne was married to Marcus Flint – a wizard her uncle once described as having troll blood. He'd been a major wanker in school, but had mellowed out in some sort of reverse Taming of the Shrew once their parents had arranged their marriage right after the war. Rose had no idea about their marriage, or much about Marcus as he was coach of the Falmouth Falcons and thus was gone for extended periods of time, which suited Daphne just fine. What Rose had known about him was when he talked, nonsense came out, and she'd look at Scorpius' aunt just to see what glorious facial expression she would grant them in response.

"Black is my colour, but you look lovely, Rose. Give me a spin."

She turned carefully in a circle, showing off her dress. "It has pockets."

"Do you have snacks in those pockets?"

"Of _course_." When Daphne gave a humoured shake of her head, Rose pulled out a bag of sour watermelons and gave the bag a shake. "I wasn't sure about the sort of choices I'd have here. I was pleasantly surprised. I must say, she's got interesting taste."

"You don't know my sister very well, but I don't think she knows you much at all either."

Rose shrugged. "I've never gotten a different look from her, and the looks I have gotten haven't been the best." There was no argument from Astoria's sister. "She doesn't like me, which is almost comforting in its consistency. But she's Scorpius' mum, and he puts up with a lot of shit from her, so I put up with it."

"And speaking of." Daphne was looking off in the distance, slightly frowning. "I know he came with you, but it seems my sister has other plans for him."

She followed her line of sight that led to Astoria, who was smiling and animatedly introducing Scorpius, armed with his Malfoy-media smile, to four well-dressed witches. One of them had _actually_ curtsied like they were in some sort of historical film, which made Scorpius blink in comical confusion, but he shook her hand almost clinically. Then did the same with the other three. When he started to look around, Astoria got his attention and led him to another witch that was standing with her parents.

"Seems that she does." Rose frowned, unsure of why she felt so strange.

"Mother," came the cool, deep voice of Marcus to their right. Rose turned and blinked at the taller wizard. "Rose." He wore all black from head to toe, which made his green eyes the only bit of colour on him. His black hair was slicked back in a way that made him look severe.

Posh and proper, but that was normal for him.

He was the brother she'd seen the least since he left Hogwarts, but also the one she knew best. Still not very well, as he had been two years ahead of her in Slytherin, but they were acquaintances. Marcus lived in Berlin working as part of the British International Magical Cooperation team, only returning for holidays and family events.

"Oh, good, you're here. Entertain Rose until your aunt finishes irritating Scorpius."

Simultaneously, they all looked to where Astoria was talking to _another_ witch while her son's media smile had faded just a bit. "It appears I'll be here for a while then."

Something ugly twisted inside of her.

"Likely." Daphne rolled her eyes. "Well." She clasped her hands together. "I'm going to find more wine since Rose drank all of mine…"

And then she was gone.

Marcus barely waited a moment before he said, "She's my favourite aunt, you know."

"She's your only aunt." His father was an only child.

"Semantics." He waved his hand flippantly. "I was too young to remember her before she had Scorpius and her illness manifested. However, after she recovered, when she came to town, she always made sure to spend time with us. My mother is often exasperated by her love of Muggle activities, but she's fun. When I first moved to Berlin, she came to help me get situated." Rose gave him a bored look, which prompted him to continue, "I know you have a difference of opinion, but she loves Scorpius in her own, albeit pushy way."

Rose had no doubt that Astoria loved him. The problem was that Astoria kept showing up and forcing her way back into all the aspects of his life that she believed she belonged in… and then she would leave again. And now, she no longer fit in anywhere because he'd reshaped those holes in his life and filled them with different people.

She watched Astoria introduce her son to yet another witch. A pretty brunette. His smile had gone stiff and Rose's frown deepened into a pinched expression of disapproval. She had no doubt that she looked exactly like her mum right then.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked as a distraction from the weird feeling thrumming through her veins.

But also because the conversation was rapidly crossing into uncharted territory for them.

"I've always tried to figure out what it is about _you_ that brings out the worst in her."

And Rose was about to say something self-deprecating to lighten the air between them that had gotten heavier with tension, but stopped herself because she _really_ needed to stop doing that. It wasn't her job to compensate for others, make excuses for them, or tolerate any of their shit in _any_ capacity. She'd made that promise to herself after Lily. "Why does it have to be me?"

The look on her eyes made him backtrack. "I meant no offence, but—"

"Not that it's any of your business whatsoever, but because she's Scorpius' mother, I've not said _half_ the things I have wanted to say to her. Do we argue? _Yes_, but I never start them. She's had a problem with me since we first met, and I've got _no_ idea why."

"She's threatened by you."

That made no sense _at all_. "For what reason? She's his _mum_. She doesn't need to try so hard. Scorpius would be happy if she stayed. Not just here, but in the box that he's put her in until he's ready to move her, but she—"

"Since we're sticking with this analogy, you _must_ know that you're in a better box than her. You're more important."

"_Al's_ in the best box of us all," Rose told him tersely. "It's practically _gold-plated_, but I don't see her insulting him every chance she gets. She _likes_ him."

"_Everyone_ likes Al." Marcus rolled his eyes. "_I_ even like him and I don't like anyone outside of a select few family members. And you, when you're not punching Joseph in the face."

"That was _one_ time in Fourth Year when he tried to trip me on the moving stairs. He learned a very important lesson that day when I tackled him in the Great Hall and he's been fine ever since."

He looked extremely dubious. "I'm certain he terrorised everyone else except you, your family and friends."

"Like I said. _Fine_." Because outside of that, nothing mattered to Rose.

She'd never been the champion of lost causes.

Unfortunately, Marcus wasn't done with their original conversation. "Back to those boxes we were discussing, perhaps if my aunt—"

"_Perhaps_," Rose shot back coolly, "His mother should take what he gives her until he's ready to give her more. She should work on fixing her relationship with him, and not focus so much on _my_ relationship with him."

"How can she fix things with him if you're there?"

"My presence has nothing to do with how she treats him."

"No, but your presence is the reason why they fight so much."

"They fight so much because she won't let him be a fucking _adult_. She looks at him like he's the same child she left, when he's not. She can't come and go as she pleases and think—"

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "She's not perfect."

"Parents _aren't_ perfect, but we love them anyway." And she had learned that lesson more in the last couple of weeks than anything else. "We accept the good in them and mostly understand that their flaws make them human. There is, however, a limit to what anyone can take and _she_—" Rose pointed at Astoria who was dismissing the increasingly irritated looks from her notoriously private son in favour of showing him off like expensive cattle. "Is shoving him towards that limit."

"She wants to fix it."

"Then she needs to give up the control she wants to wield over him. Encourage him, get to know him, and stop using him like a fucking prop."

"I—"

She held up her hand and shut eyes briefly in an attempt to maintain her composure. "Look, as much as I've enjoyed this _chat_," Rose stressed the last word with gritted teeth to make certain he understood exactly how she felt about their conversation. "I fail to see how any of this has to do with me. I'm not the problem. I've never once discouraged him from making amends because it's not my place to do such a thing, despite how I feel about her… or how she feels about me. Don't assume that because we were in Slytherin together that means that you know me, because I guarantee you that you don't." Rose spotted Al and Jane. Bless them both for their excellent timing. "Enjoy your evening, Marcus."

She walked away, feeling his eyes on her. Rose knew better than to walk faster and give any physical indication of her irritation. Still, she was moving a lot faster than Al and Jane, who were smiling at each other, so she ended up catching up with them fairly quickly.

"There you are, Rose!" Al grinned.

Jane's smile was dazzling and after showing off her dress, she finally found someone who was as excited about her _pockets_ as she'd been. Jane herself was wearing adorable robes that looked like a painting of blooming cherry blossoms on a sky blue background. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun… well, except her bangs, but they were swept to the side so she could see. Al wore medium grey robes and a white shirt. No jacket. He'd even brushed his hair for the occasion.

Which spoke volumes.

"Where's Scorpius?" Al asked. "We've been looking around for you two for _ages_."

Rose looked around until she spotted him and Astoria, then pointed them out. "Over there. His mother is parading him around to all the single witches."

Her cousin cringed. "Ouch."

"Well, _that's_ just pointless," Jane said airily.

Rose was about to ask her what she meant by that when the music stopped. Everyone was then directed to find their seats so that they could serve dinner and Astoria could speak a few words to everyone.

She'd half expected for her seat to be with Scorpius, as they'd come together, but she'd found her card between Marcus and Joseph with Al and Jane sitting across from her. Octavian, Quincy and Henrietta filled in the last three seats at their table. A now visibly aggravated Scorpius had been placed at a completely _different_ table with no less than six unfamiliar witches. He'd been wedged between the witch that had curtsied and another that smiled too much, but he was staring blankly into space.

Which had always been Scorpius' first visible sign of anger.

For the first time, she and Henrietta exchanged knowing looks of worry. Al was trying to make eye contact, but Scorpius was long gone. Too far in his head to bring back. Jane had found a kindred spirit in Octavian and they were talking about their experience bungee jumping earlier that day. Quincy, confused by all the tension, started talking to Marcus about whatever overly pretty men talked about. Joseph looked ready to eat.

Any other day, she would have been right there with him.

At the table between theirs and Scorpius', Daphne sat with his parents and both sets of grandparents. In fact, Daphne sat two seats from her sister and showed every bit of her displeasure. Astoria's mother was frowning distastefully at Narcissa, who had been too busy staring at her son to notice. Mr. Draco was off to the side having what looked like a normal conversation with Astoria, but the air around them seemed to crackle with strain that none of the other guests had noticed. Lucius looked _beyond_ ready to leave.

Rose could relate.

She quickly glanced at the other tables, catching a glimpse of her cousin, who had been seated nearby. She turned around but caught Al looking past her at his sister with a slight frown on his face that matched hers.

So, they still weren't speaking then.

Astoria gave Mr. Draco a tight smile and abruptly walked back to the table. Then she looked over her shoulder, waiting for him to join her. Which he did, taking his seat and looking at his son, mouth tight. Using her wand to amplify her voice, she started speaking to the guests.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to celebrate this special occasion with me. Each birthday is a milestone for me, and what better way to remember it than being surrounded by friends and family from all over?" Astoria started with a smile and nearly everyone clapped politely.

Scorpius hadn't moved a muscle. Rose bit her fingernails and glanced over at Henrietta, who looked supremely unamused. For the first time, she wasn't the recipient of her disapproval.

"Every year, when asked what I wish for my birthday, my wish remains the same. I wish for continued health and happiness, and I also wish that my son would find a lovely and suitable witch to settle down with."

Al nearly choked and Rose cut her eyes over to Scorpius, whose face was still blank, but his ears had gone red. Daphne's glare intensified and Lucius looked _far_ more interested than he had just a few moments before.

"I am so proud of the man he has become, but like all parents, I want to know that one day, when I'm no longer here, that someone – who _actually_ cares about my son – is taking care of him and making him happy. To make that wish come true, I've invited some of the loveliest witches—"

Mr. Draco stood up abruptly and whispered something into her ear. One word, and while Rose had read enough lips in her life, she couldn't read his. His entire demeanour seemed normal and relaxed, but like before, there was something about his expression that betrayed his anger. She had only noticed it because she'd seen the look already. On the day of her inquiry.

Rose looked around again and everyone appeared completely unaware.

"Again," Astoria continued, with a too-wide smile on her face. "Thank you all for coming and please enjoy the festivities. Dinner is served."

Plates appeared before each guest and the music started up again. As did the sound of voices.

Nothing seemed amiss to anyone outside their table.

Mr. Draco made a _lead the way_ gesture to Astoria, and together they left. She kept at least two steps ahead of him until they walked through the wards and out of sight.

Rose stared at her plate. She had been hungry before, but now found herself uninterested. Neither Al nor Jane touched their food, but Jacob next to her started eating. Marcus drank his wine.

Feeling more than a little embarrassed for him, Rose looked down at Scorpius. He'd lowered his head, his anger and humiliation so palpable that she could almost feel it filling the room with frenzied energy that made her skin tingle to the point of discomfort. The witches at his table seemed to notice it as well, as none of them tried to engage him in conversation.

Al started to excuse himself, but Rose held up her hand. "_Wait_. Al, just… let me."

It was just a feeling she had. It _had_ to be her.

She was on her feet and walking in his direction with no clear plan in mind of what she was going to say to him or what she was going to do. Heart drowning in her ears, Rose could feel _every_ eye at the parents table on her, but she kept hers fixed on him, unconsciously aware. The closer she got, the heavier the air around him weighed her down.

But Rose was determined.

She put her hand on the back of his chair, not at all surprised that he hadn't responded. He looked like he was fighting a war against himself, so incensed that he was almost panicking to keep it all bottled inside.

Rose cut her eyes over to the witch that had curtsied. "Can I borrow your chair for a moment?"

She looked as if Rose had gone mad. "But this is my seat."

Very much like her uncle, she gritted her teeth and used every bit of her slightly below-average height to intimidate the still-sitting witch. "And I'm _nicely_ asking you to get up. If I have to ask again, it won't be nice."

And that was a promise.

She moved and Rose adjusted her dress before she sat down, facing Scorpius. When she glanced up, there were six sets of eyes on her with various looks ranging from irritation to awe. Well, fuck. "Actually, I'm going to have to ask you all to clear out." No one moved. "_Now_."

Well, _that_ certainly did the job.

Rose never bothered to see where they scattered because they didn't matter. With the rising crescendo of chattering guests loudly enjoying themselves all around them, Rose scooted her chair closer, tentatively reaching for him. Hesitant. Unsure of his mental space and not really knowing what she could accomplish by touch alone.

And yet, she rested her hand first on his shoulder, then the back of his warm neck.

His head jerked up suddenly, making her move her hand down to his lapel, his gaze momentarily sharp as a knife and ready to stab, but before he could, it softened at the sight of her.

She couldn't string together words of comfort as it has never been her thing, so she focused on _him_ – not the anger and agitation rolling off him in chaotic waves – and allowed the silence to speak for her. His hands were gripping his thighs hard enough that the veins were visible and she moved her free hand over to cover one, unable to reach the other.

In the silence, she tucked his hair behind his ears and spoke to him as he had to her the morning after her inquiry. She told him that it was okay, that he wasn't alone, and that they would sit there as long as he needed. Not nearly as eloquent as he had been, but she tried. Maybe the words hadn't been right or easy for him to translate in the quiet between them, but Rose hoped that it was enough because she meant every word of it.

And it was.

Bit by bit, he started to relax. Scorpius took a few deep breaths and turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together, seeking the comfort and foundation she often sought from him. Nothing else outside the two of them mattered. Not her talk with her mum, not the awkwardness, or the odd feelings breaking ground inside of her. She wouldn't deny him.

_Couldn't_.

Rose gently moved their joined hands onto her lap and rested her free hand on top. His hands were clammy. Or maybe hers were. She wasn't sure of anything except him, her, the constant rolling of her empty stomach, and the pounding of her heart. As Scorpius calmed further, and much to her utter relief, he did little things that assured Rose of his return back to normality. He fixed his glasses with a flick of finger, lifted his eyes to meet hers, and finally… _finally_, he spoke:

"You realise everyone's staring at us."

She almost laughed. "I _literally_ could not give a single damn right now."

But no, she hadn't noticed that or how quiet things had gotten.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Because they sure as _hell_ weren't staying, Rose asked, "Where do you want to go?"

Scorpius never answered, but they stood together. There was the small matter of switching to the right hand, but once that had been settled, Rose pointedly ignored everyone that pretended not to watch them. However, she caught sight of Al, who was standing not too far away – because he was stubborn as hell – and told him that they were leaving. Scorpius and Al, like the unrelated brothers they were, had an entire conversation with a few looks before the latter nodded, everything sorted.

When they stepped through the wards, all the sounds of music and murmuring voices faded to nothing. The sun was mid-descent in the western sky and the temperature was just a bit cooler than it had been when they'd walked in together. They started up the cobblestone walkway from the warded dome that was only visible to them right then if they squinted just enough to see the shimmer of magic.

For the second time, Rose asked him where he wanted to go.

However, before Scorpius could answer, they heard his parents before they saw them. A clearly furious Astoria was approaching them, eyes focused on the cobblestone beneath her heeled shoes as she argued with his father. "Draco, I have a party to get back to, so if you could spare me the lecture until later, I'll be sure to give you my undivided attention then."

Mr. Draco was not ready to let it go. "You told him just yesterday that you would try. _That_ wasn't trying, Astoria! That was petty, and you know it. If you think that your behaviour is going to do anything except _damage_—" He stopped abruptly upon seeing them there.

As did his mother, who had been utterly surprised to see them outside the party. She couldn't hide it as well as his father.

"Son. Rose," his father greeted them both, but his eyes were on his son. Understandable. She watched as his eyes shifted down to their entwined hands, back up to Scorpius' face, then he came to the correct conclusion. "You both are leaving." He didn't sound upset, nor did he sound very surprised.

Astoria's face changed as the same realisation dawned on her.

"Yes," Rose answered, giving her the same challenging look that she'd received earlier.

"But the party has only just begun." Astoria frowned. Like that made any difference.

Rose exchanged a blank look with his father, who nodded as if he understood exactly what she was trying to say, which was _no offence – actually, all the offence – but fuck that party_. He chuckled and walked past Astoria, stopping just a moment to touch his son's shoulder. "I'll stop by tomorrow and bring those books on Magical Transference that you wanted to borrow."

"Okay, dad." The two exchanged a complicated set of looks before Scorpius nodded. "Thanks."

And with that, Mr. Draco continued on toward the warded dome at a leisurely pace.

When faced only with his mother blocking his way, Rose stepped closer to Scorpius, giving her enough room to pass them unimpeded. She took enough steps to pass them, and a few more, but stopped and gave a great sigh. Neither of them had to look to know that she had turned around. "I know you're upset about what I said," Astoria stated the obvious.

Rose noticed the change in his expression before he released her hand and turned to face his mother. She stepped off the cobblestone walkway, putting herself in the same position as a mediator. When he spoke to his mother, there was a chill in his voice that hadn't been there before. "As you said before, you have a party to get back to. You should do that."

"Don't be like that, Scorpius." She stepped towards him and looked hurt when he stepped back. Astoria sounded earnest when she said, "I _am_ sorry for what I said in there. I was out of line."

"Are you? Sorry, that is. _Are you_?"

"_I am_," she sounded a little astonished that he didn't believe her. "I—"

"Sometimes, apologies aren't enough."

Because an apology only acknowledged wrongdoing, not the pain her actions had caused.

Rose half expected for him to leave it and determine where they were headed next, but there was a bitterness in him that she'd never seen before. Scorpius had always been self-possessed, but it hadn't been until right then that Rose realised that he hadn't completely put the lid back on his emotions that had gone wild before she'd calmed him down.

"If you think I'm only upset about what you said, I'm _more_ than willing to give you time to re-evaluate your actions over the last twenty-four hours."

Astoria, judging from the way she winced, hadn't needed long to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Rose, meanwhile, had no clue… which truly had been the theme of her _entire day_. Or _life_. Whichever. "I'm just concerned about you. Boys your age don't wait like you have. They date and—"

"I _have_ a date, but you insisted on parading me around the room like a prized horse so I never had a chance to—"

"Rose is _not_ a date," she shot back harshly. "Not a proper one." At the almost offended look on her son's face, Astoria softened and amended her statement. "She's just your _friend_. I know what I said yesterday, but I only said that to stop your father from arguing with me. I still believe that you can do _so_ much better."

Rose stepped back, more stunned by the context clues she'd been given than by Astoria's words.

Honestly, she'd expected them.

Scorpius said nothing in response, just nodded and gave a little chuckle that reminded her of the one time he and James – who felt like Al had replaced him with Scorpius – had fought it out in absolute brutal fashion in the field outside the Burrow during a rainstorm after Fifth Year.

Rose barely had a moment to allow the lone thought of – _buggering shit_ – to pass through her mind before Scorpius started walking towards his mother. In fact, she nearly tripped over her dress trying to head him off. And while she was gathering as much of it as she could, Scorpius rested his hand on his mother's shoulder and said, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," she replied, looking bewildered but also wary. For good reason. Rose was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "You can tell me tomorrow during dinner after the Quidditch game."

"No, I can't," he said, voice almost chillingly calm. Too calm.

Astoria looked even more puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because I won't be there."

She visibly recoiled. "Scorpius—"

"Enjoy your party." He then turned around, his eyes seeking and finding hers.

Rose froze in place, letting go of her dress. She was absolutely certain that she looked every bit like her dad when her mum caught him late-night snacking. Her eyes shifted from left to right before meeting his again.

In that moment, a strange calm settled over her.

She would see this through with him. Whatever it was.

Rose stood straighter and briefly wondered what was going on in his head because the look of resignation slowly transformed to determination.

"Can you wait?"

She nodded. What was she going to say? _No?_

With that, he turned back around to face his mother.

"You can be upset at me, I deserve it." Astoria sounded chastened. "But I want you to stay."

"I see no reason to be here anymore as you don't respect me, my opinions, my wishes, or anyone I care about." Rose flinched at his blunt words, but wasn't surprised by them. Scorpius never minced words when he was upset. "You—"

"What I did was in poor taste, but I'd like to make it up to you. If you stay a little longer—"

"You've got some _nerve_ asking me to stay when you've never _once_ bothered to stay for me."

Rose sucked in a breath. Not just at the words, but the _hurt_ in them. It had come from a place older than today. Older than the friendship they'd struck up on the Hogwarts Express. Astoria looked as if she had been slapped and was still reeling. Tears welled in her eyes and Rose felt like crying as well, but for a completely different reason.

_For him_.

Scorpius ran his hands through his hair multiple times, messing it up. Then, he looked off to the side and down before back at his mother. "I'm sorry," he said solemnly. "I shouldn't have said that." His body was tense, words not so controlled. "I—" He was visibly struggling in a way that made Rose's chest tighten. "I'm not trying to ruin your birthday."

"You're ruining it by leaving."

It all came out in a rush as he lost his grip on the composure that he had held on to so tightly for so long. "And you're ruining _me!_"

Rose wrapped her arm around her middle, hugging herself as she listened. Waited.

"I've made effort after effort, but all you've ever done is throw it in my face. You disrespect me over and over, and you wonder why I'm so silent, why I won't talk to you or confide in you. I've given you chance after chance due to the fact that you're my mother and _I love you_. I foolishly cling to the memories of you while you were sick, even though it's obvious that you aren't that person anymore." He made a low, bitter noise that _stung_. "But at least _then_ you _wanted_ to be my mother on a full-time basis, not just when it suits you or when you want to purge the guilt you feel about the fact that _you left me_."

Rose felt his words like a physical force. Her throat went dry.

Astoria said nothing at first, still looking pale and physically wounded. "They told me…" Rose watched as she sniffed and wiped the corner of her wet eyes. "They gave me five years initially when the treatments started working. _Five_." She saw the confusion on his face and smiled tearfully. "This was _years_ before they told me I'd live a half-life. They didn't know. My blood disease has always been fatal. They still take samples of my blood to determine how the treatments work. I wasn't supposed to live—"

"But you _did_." And he wouldn't let her use that as an excuse.

Astoria nodded shakily. "But when they told me, I didn't know that I would beat the odds. I—" She took a breath and all Rose could see was how desperately she wanted him to understand. "I just thought about the fact that I was still nineteen when you were born. I thought about the fact that I was bedridden every day after. I thought about the fact that I hadn't _lived_. That I'd married into a family that _hated me_ and I—I just wanted to _live_." Her hands clenched at her side.

Rose saw it all. Her regret and guilt, but also love. Her love for him.

"I thought if you knew less of me, it wouldn't hurt you so much when I died. But as the years passed and I continued to survive, I… I'd gone too far to come back. I was selfish and _wrong_. I shouldn't have left. I didn't think about the damage my decisions would inflict on you. I thought you would be fine if I kept coming around, but I didn't think about what leaving would do to you."

"Dad never spoke ill of you. Not once. He did the best he could to make sure I knew the reasons behind your actions. I've never resented you, but—"

"I'm here now. _For good_. I'm trying. I've _been_ trying, but you've shut me out."

"Because you won't stop trying to control me; you've _never_ stopped trying to control me. You don't like my career, but I help people _just like you_. I thought you would be proud. You don't like my choice in the people I keep closest, but they were there for me when you weren't. I thought you would appreciate them for the support they've given me. You constantly argue with dad about me, but he never listened to my grandparents and raised me exactly how _you_ wanted. I thought that you would be grateful that he respected your wishes."

Astoria looked hurt. "You've never said anything before. I—"

"I didn't want you to leave. I didn't want something to happen to you. I didn't want to live with that kind of regret. So, I dealt with it. I bit my tongue. I listened to your complaints. I tried to appease you without compromising myself, but I am _tired_." His voice broke as his fists clenched at his side. Rose was hurt to the point where she could feel tears welling in her own eyes. "I can't take it anymore." And he stood up straighter, staring at his mother. "I _won't_."

"I know—"

Scorpius straightened his glasses and exhaled with a small, sad shake of his head. "I was recently reminded how, even as adults, we don't stop needing our parents. We're wired like that and it doesn't matter how illogical it is. It doesn't matter how much I _want to stop_, I can't stop needing you, your approval, or affection – even when you break your promises, even when you _publicly humiliate me_, even when you parade me around the room like an exotic creature, even when you constantly insult the person I care most about."

Rose took a step towards him, then hesitated.

"You know how I feel—"

"But what about how _I_ feel? Do I matter to you at _all_?"

His pain was so raw, so big and loud and real that, even though Rose had known about his issues with Astoria, she found that she couldn't _imagine_ how he'd managed to keep it so controlled for so long.

"Of course, you do!"

Not that it mattered anymore. It had been freed.

"Then _listen to me_." His tone was just short of begging. "Listen to what I said at lunch yesterday. How I feel, it won't change, so accept it and stop trying to change my mind. Stop trying to push me off on other witches and _support_ _me_. Start being my mother."

"I do this _because_ I'm your mother!" Astoria yelled with mascara tears running down her face. "I care about you, Scorpius, of course I do. I want what's best for you. I _always have_. I worry about you all the time."

"That's not your job anymore."

"It'll _never_ stop being my job," she told him firmly. "I'm scared that your choices won't make you happy in the long run. I'm worried that you're cutting yourself off from so many other possibilities for some silly teenaged crush. I'm worried that you're giving far more than you're getting in return. I'm worried that you're wasting your time _waiting_ and that she'll _crush you_. I'm worried that you'll never get what you need from—"

"If it's a mistake, then it's mine to make. You don't get to make those decisions for me."

"You need—"

Scorpius held up his hand. "_How_ can you tell me what I need when you don't know me?"

"How can I know you when you don't _talk to me_?"

"How can I _talk to you_ when you try to control me?"

"You're young!"

"_I'm an adult!"_ Scorpius shouted with such finality that Astoria backed down.

Rose had never heard that tone from him before.

And neither had his mother.

He ran his hand through his hair again, gathered his thoughts, took a deep breath, and talked to her. "I'm not that little boy anymore. I'm a man. You've never _once_ tried to understand me, my personal and career choices, _or_ even Rose. You took one look at her and immediately decided she wasn't worthy of your son, but she _is_."

At that, Rose's heart started hammering and she felt light-headed and faint.

Scorpius wasn't done. "I don't need to tell you why. I don't need to convince you. The fact that I care about her _makes_ her worthy."

Which absolutely floored her.

He stepped closer to his mother. "I think you don't understand that what you're doing to _her_ is what dad's parents did to _you_. How did that make you feel? Gods, _they're_ even trying to accept what I want. They may not agree, but they know how their treatment of you hurt their relationship with my dad and they—"

Astoria said his name in a low warning and Rose could almost feel the bitterness rolling off her.

Scorpius chuckled. It was dark and ugly and her vision blurred from the tears sliding down her face because she hated hearing that come from him. It wasn't right. "You know," he said bitterly. "I have _never_ needed you more in my life than I do right now, but I'd rather suffer in silence than talk to you."

His mother reached for him, but Scorpius stepped just outside of her reach.

"Stop." Scorpius took a _hurt_, shuddering breath and drew a metaphorical line in the sand. "I've always wanted – no, _needed_ – you, but not this _person_ you've become. Until you're fully ready to assume that role, I need space. I can't keep _doing_ this to myself when I'm not responsible for you or the state of our relationship; when I'm not under any obligation to keep allowing you to try and _break me_ from the inside out in an attempt to mould me into who you want me to be. I can only be who I am right now, and I won't let you turn me into something I'm not. So, when you're ready to accept me _and_ my wishes, I'll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I'm done."

And he stepped off the cobblestone walkway, walking towards Rose. His head was down, but she could see how painful each step was for him; she could _feel_ the tumultuous energy around him. It seeped into her, making her feel heavier than ever before. When he heard his mother's quiet sobs, Scorpius hesitated for just a moment before his face hardened into steely determination.

He took another step. And another.

When he reached her, Rose had no idea what to do, so she opened her arms and held on to him as best as she could. He was shaking when, for the third time, she asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"_Anywhere_."

She took out her wand.

Destination.  
Determination.  
Deliberation.

They were gone with a soft pop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope everyone's staying safe! Not gonna lie, this chapter has been done for weeks. I was trying to get 20 done before I posted, but then I looked up and was like, it's been a month...and I'm working on a fest fic that exploded so, here I am with a humble offering of more angst and a Scorpius FINALLY speaking up for himself (as well as a look into his family I should have done CHAPTERS AGO because of my love for Daphne in this, but we got a lot going on with daggers and killers and such so...oops). I swear, Scorpius hasn't had this much dialogue in this entire story, but every bit of it needed to be said. But also, this is the push in Rose's awakening that's been going on for quite some time on a growing scale...and Hermione coming in to club her daughter over the head to get her together? Also planned. LOL. Chapter 18, I think, is the halfway point of the story, but Chapter 20 is like a marker of mine...and this leads right to it. Oh, and just know, the bungee jumping scene? Planned from the start because my title is literal in all ways and I'm crazy. Hope you enjoyed. Stay safe!
> 
> Also @Floorcoaster made me a shiny and as soon as I figure out to add it, I will.


	20. Catching The Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   

> 
> _And I am never this person, never this certain  
__But you got me willing to try_  
Willing to try, I want to try...  
**Honest: San Holo ft. Broods**

**Chapter Twenty _— _** **Catching the Snitch**

Scorpius was silent, but it was different from any she had ever experienced before.

At least with him.

_Anywhere_ ended with them back at her flat where they changed into more comfortable clothes.

Rose grabbed her beaded bag and his hand and—since he was no longer _shaking__—_she followed his lead, allowing him to pick their next destination. Scorpius was intense, still quiet when she felt the familiar tug of Apparition, but she trusted him to get them there safely.

And he did.

They landed on the grass just off the dock overlooking a familiar lake. She knew where they were, but still turned slowly until she caught the sight of Malfoy Manor in the distance, which confirmed what she already knew. They were a long walk from the gardens, not far into the forest surrounding the estate.

Rose had been there only once before, at fourteen, when she visited the Manor for the first time with Al; it was a visit that had only happened after _long_ discussions between their parents and Mr Draco. Scorpius and his dad didn't live there, but it had been Mr Draco's birthday and Scorpius had wanted his friends at his father's party. Then they'd all gotten bored and snuck off to the lake to put their feet in the cold water. Al had ruined his clothes by falling in since none of them knew drying charms yet, but Rose remembered only the way Scorpius had looked happy that they were there with him. His grandparents and dad never ventured out there; the former had left the house-elves to do any sort of maintenance needed, mainly for Scorpius' sake.

Because while Scorpius himself hadn't been there since that summer before Fourth Year, Rose always thought of it as _his place_ because of how happy he looked when he was there.

Together they laid out a blanket on the dock. Scorpius sat by the edge, bent forward, letting his fingers skim the top of the water. Then, when Rose lay down under the shifting skies, he lay next to her, closed his eyes, and drifted in the breeze.

Because Scorpius always seemed to recharge by the water.

Rose had never understood why until then. More than calming, it was serene out there with no distractions—just the sound of water, the gentle wind, and the warmth from a dying sun. He had all the time they needed; all the space he wanted. Scorpius was on his back with Rose curled against him. With her head resting on his outstretched arm, their hands knotted together on his chest, Rose concentrated on feeling him breathe as she watched the blue skies as they faded in dramatic fashion to oranges and reds and just a hint of purple.

The water lapped against the wooden beam of the dock rhythmically. Everything was steady…

Except Scorpius.

Even with his eyes shut, Rose could _feel_ the tension in his silence. It was as uncomfortable for Rose as it was witnessing his argument with Astoria. He wasn't asleep; he was far too restless for that. The agitation in him seemed to pulse in the air around them, permeating his skin and settling in his bones.

His energy felt wrong.

_He_ felt wrong.

But Rose had no idea how to make him right again. Or if it was her place to even try.

Unlike Scorpius, her silence was more contemplative as she took to watching him instead of the sky. Like she had been at the party, she was on edge, waiting for him to say something—_anything_ that would give her an inkling of what she could do to help him. Because right then, Rose wanted nothing more than to ease his distress. The problem was that she found she had no words left, nothing to offer him except her presence.

She wondered if that was enough.

Because to her, whenever she had been troubled, his presence had meant far more than anything she could express with words. Rose wondered if he'd known, if she'd even expressed it or told him directly. Maybe she had, but not enough or in the right way. And that was fine because now… now she would.

_Now _it was important that he knew.

Silence stretched on in all directions, singing with tension until Rose could no longer determine if she was feeling her own emotions or his. Maybe it was both. She shifted, adjusting in an attempt to spare the stiff arm that she had been lying on. Scorpius automatically moved it, folding his arm behind his head without opening his eyes.

Rose propped her head on her hand, allowing her elbow to rest on the blankets. She watched Scorpius and expanded on her thoughts, reflecting on the latest clinking incline and the sharp drop on the emotional rollercoaster she—no, _they__—_had been on. Because Rose couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been by her side every step of the way, even before the dagger.

But regardless, she _hated_ the ride; not the person sitting next to her on it.

She just… _h__ated _how vulnerable she had felt, how much it had _hurt_, and now replaying his argument with his mother in her mind had left a certain kind of weight on her chest that was foreign. Odd. Tight. Feeling his pain as if it was her own had been a breathtaking experience that left her feeling wounded with him. And she wondered if that was that normal—if it was a result of their bonds of friendship. Or that she had witnessed it firsthand. Or the fact that she genuinely gave more of a damn about him than anyone.

_Or_ perhaps it was something inside of her that was _just her_.

Rose had doubts.

Many of them.

And when she went to pull her doubts up by the root, she realised they were a lot deeper than she'd thought; she realised they went all the way to the foundation of basic truths in her life concerning Scorpius.

That he was the unassuming centre of _everything_ in her life. It had always been about Scorpius.

Rose had never cared for Astoria, but it had nothing to do with her treatment of _her_, and more to do with _him_. Her irritation at Lily throwing him a birthday party? Well, Rose didn't care for loud, frantic parties either, but she knew he _hated _them more because he just wanted to be with friends and people he trusted. Her annoyance with the articles was fuelled by his, not for her own sake, but because of how people would judge _him_. And the reason she _hated_ his Malfoy Media Smile?

Because it wasn't who he was.

He put on that smile and became someone she didn't know. Someone who wasn't… _him_.

And Rose always wanted Scorpius to be himself because she…

Oh, shit.

Alarms went off in her head, but the dam broke anyway.

Her mother had told her to sort through her feelings, and she'd promised that she would. So, she did so by picking up her paddle and allowing her thoughts to carry her downstream as she stared past Scorpius, taking in the endless sight of the sunset that reflected on the water. But as the current of her musings started to swell and her thoughts started to crash together, water began to fill her boat and Rose panicked.

The task was too large. The water was too deep. The current was too strong.

It was going to drag her under.

And she wasn't the best swimmer.

But then she looked back at Scorpius, and her thoughts turned, changed, as her mental waters settled. Calmed. Rose took a deep breath, then exhaled.

_Perhaps_ she had been focusing on the wrong thing—_the big picture__—_and not the smaller things that were most important. The river of thoughts in her mind, no matter how chaotic, was easier to wade through when she didn't think about everything all at once. When she started to use the paddle she'd had with her all along. Rose put it in the water and paddled the stream of memory backwards until she entered part of the river where she'd been on the night they'd kissed outside The Burrow.

_Scorpius was something different._

He'd become integral to her. _Necessary_. While Rose had always known they were tethered, she hadn't fully realised the full extent of their link until today. When Scorpius was happy, so was she. He would laugh and all Rose could do was laugh with him. When he relaxed, so would she. Sometimes, all Rose would need was his presence and everything else would just fade into the background.

Perversely, it worked both ways. When he was upset, so was she. When he was restless, so was she.

Like now.

Rose continued on her course until she looked around and saw something in the distance, coming closer. When it reached her, it said: _Your friendship isn't normal._

And perhaps those two were linked. _Because _he was different, their friendship wasn't normal. It wasn't wrong. It was just… _more_. The intensity with which Rose had felt his heartache during and _after_ his argument with his mother had transcended the traditional bonds of friendship.

Had she witnessed something similar between _anyone_ else, she wouldn't have been quite as distressed. More than that, she wouldn't have _cried_ from her mother's words earlier or sought her advice had she'd said them about someone she didn't care about. Rose would have handled his feelings for her about as flippantly as she handled most blokes in the past because when it boiled down to it, they didn't matter.

_Scorpius mattered. _

Had he not, she wouldn't have lost so much sleep over his direct expression of affection.

By his touch.  
His proximity.  
His kisses.

Okay, so _maybe_ that was enough paddling for the day. Her chest was hurting from exertion; her arms were burning and her stomach churning—not in hunger, but _awareness_. Not just to Scorpius and _his_ feelings, but to the incoming thunderstorm of her own, a storm that had been gathering strength since the party. Since they'd jumped together. Since they'd snogged the second time. Maybe even the first.

_Or longer_.

Rose braced herself as there was really nowhere to shelter herself from the storm; she was already so far out in the water with one paddle and a boat not strong enough to withstand so much as a gust of wind.

_Fuck._

She moved her elbow to lay comfortably on her arm, still at his side, keeping her attention on him, despite the fact that she knew what was coming. The air around her shifted as her heart continued spluttering on with all sorts of emotions rising in her chest as the storm drew near.

As the rain started in her mind.

Slowly, her eyes slid from his face, to his neck, to their joined hands on his chest in an attempt to ground herself, to stop herself from flying in different directions. Or crying.

It wasn't a big deal. Not at all.

It was fine. _Everything_ was fine.

Rose made a _plan_. She would survive the storm and paddle (or swim) back to land. Then, she would take a nap and eat some food. She wouldn't yell or be weird about it or bury it deep. She planned to express her newly recognised feelings to Scorpius like the normal _fucking_ human being she was and it would be out there in the universe. Acknowledged. But then her plan went to hell rapidly when that annoying little feeling stood up and introduced itself.

_Love_ _._

Rose abruptly scrambled into a seated position, eyes as wild as her hair she'd given up on the moment they'd landed. She looked over her shoulder at Scorpius as she absorbed _everything_. From his profile to the deep breaths he took. From the glasses on his forehead to the hair that moved with the breeze. From the way his hand flexed when she'd all but ripped it from his grip to the fact that he'd opened his eyes the moment she'd moved.

What. The. _H__ell? _Outside of what she felt for her family, she didn't know what love meant, had no concept of how it felt and had never had any real interest in finding out. What was it _doing_ there? But just when she started to yell like a lunatic, it sat back down, not in any hurry for further confession, just acknowledgment of its presence.

Which was a fucking _relief_ because she honestly couldn't take it. Not without losing her shit.

But her physical reaction to the presence in her mind had broken whatever tense peace they'd been experiencing. "Are you okay?" Scorpius asked as he lifted up on his elbow, putting his glasses on so he could see her better.

Rose didn't trust _any_ _bit_ of her ability to speak. She turned her head back to the water, unable to look at him any longer because the storm was _there_. And somehow, Rose found herself already in the middle of it without knowing when the hell it had begun. Jittery energy passed through her and she couldn't shake it. Her throat constricted and she welcomed it because—_fuck_, she already knew she was about to do something insane.

"Rose?" He tried again.

She snorted to herself and it sounded frantic to her own ears. _At least _she hadn't had to paddle far to find what she was looking for. Perhaps her mum had been right. Maybe she'd known all along and was just too stubborn and blind and _stupid_ to see what was right there in front of her.

What had always been there.

Feelings.  
Emotions.

And a few things she wasn't ready to define, but some things she could.

Later.

When she was more level-headed.

After the storm of acknowledged emotions had passed.

But when Rose tried to satisfy herself with waiting, all she felt was more agitated.

"Are you hungry?" Scorpius asked after he sat up next to her.

She didn't look, but could feel him trying to sort himself and get comfortable. His leg brushed against hers and Rose shut her eyes. Tried to breathe. Tried not to say anything rash. "I could eat." And while that was absolutely true, Rose didn't have much of an appetite. Scorpius only chuckled and muttered something about some things that would never change.

Which was funny, Rose thought hysterically while lost in the storm in her own head, trying desperately to keep her head above water.

_Everything had changed_ _._

They sat in silence while she tried to remain the picture of calm that she most certainly _was not_. How in the _hell_ had he done this? How had he remained so… himself? Day in and day out, how could he wake up in _her _bed, knowing how _he_ felt, and kept himself from blurting it out? It had been three minutes and she was about to _scream at him_. How could Scorpius _touch her_ so calmly when his proximity right then made her skin crawl?

And not in a bad way.

_Now_, Rose understood his hesitations. All of them.

But she took a deep breath and then… she tried to understand his determination.

If he could, so could she. Wasn't how that worked?

"We could go to that kebab place you like."

How could he talk to her like everything was normal when it _was not_?

"You hate the smell of burning meat." Rose irritably got to her feet, dusting invisible lint off her clothes as she stood by the edge, looking at the water. The sun was halfway below the horizon; brilliant oranges and reds held on to their control of the sky. Rose finally looked down at him. "We can go to that vegan place you like near your flat."

Scorpius gave her an inexplicable look and got to his feet next to her, joining her on the edge of the dock. She felt a bit of fringe touch her face and swatted it away in a move that just wound her up more. That helped _nothing_. "Rose, you don't like vegetarian food, much less _vegan_ food." He sounded as if he were trying to sort through the reason behind her suggestion.

That made two of them.

But perhaps…

Rose let herself look at him, her heart in her throat; feelings and braveries building. "I—I'm willing to try something new."

For a long moment, he searched her face, tilting his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowed. And because he knew her so well, Scorpius _knew_ something was amiss with her and was determined to figure it out. _Curious_. Something else that was funny? So was she…

"Rose?" He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers brushing her face in the softest of touches that made her tense. With new meaning, his touch burned her for the first time and she carefully took a step back, minding the edges. All of them. More than ever, Scorpius looked confused. Concerned. "You're not okay."

Well, no. Not really.

Not even a little bit.

And because she was _still_ very much herself, Rose never responded.

She just shoved him off the dock.

A wet and sputtering Scorpius resurfaced with his glasses in his hand, gasping and spitting out lake water. She eyed the water. It wasn't that deep because he was standing, the water reaching to his shoulders. Rose took off her shoes, then looked back at Scorpius, who was still trying to figure out what the _hell_ had happened. In fact, he looked very much like a wet cat with his hair pasted to his forehead. A rather perturbed wet cat.

She took off her socks, catching a glimpse of him as he shook his head and ran a quick hand over his face to wipe the water away. He put on his glasses and sharply craned his head up to look at her.

He looked a bit miffed.

Okay, angry.  
Pretty angry.

He also _sounded_ angry, too.

"What the _hell_, Rose!"

And well, she had no answer for that either, so she stepped off the dock.

It wasn't much of a drop, but bloody hell, the water was _cold_. No wonder he was angry.

Once the initial shock passed, it wasn't so bad. Not warm, but not freezing either. Not yet, anyway. They had already passed the heat of the day. She emerged from the water, wiping her eyes and tossing her hair over her shoulders. Rose wasn't able to touch the floor of the lake without the water covering her nose so she used the six months of swimming lessons she'd wrestled through to ease in his direction

For her efforts, she got a face full of lake water, courtesy of an irritated Scorpius Malfoy.

She spat out the water that had gotten into her mouth and rubbed her eyes again. One was open and the other was shut tight when she admitted, "I completely deserved that."

"Why did you push me in?" he asked hotly.

"I honestly have no idea." And when his glare intensified, Rose amended her answer. "I panicked?"

He turned it up another six degrees, reminding her of the time she'd shoved him into the Black Lake during an argument. Ah well, _clearly_, she had created a pattern. Rose started moving her arms under the water, swimming like a frog that had eaten too many flies, but it worked all the same.

She found herself just within his reach. "Are you going to splash me again?"

"No," he grumbled moodily.

"Sorry, but in my defence, it seemed like a good idea at the time." The lake current made her drift away from him just enough for Scorpius to reach out and grab her, pulling her close and keeping his hand on her waist to steady her. And that… just escalated things quickly.

"Rose?" Scorpius' voice was low, private. "What's going on in your head?"

There was a lot she wanted to say to him right then, things she had only just avoided uttering by pushing him into the lake. But there they were again, a mess of words right on the tip of her tongue, taunting her as emotions rocked her hard enough to throw her overboard. She tried to keep it all together but was falling apart at the seams.

"Talk to me," he implored, touching her chin to angle her face so he could look her in the eyes.

And that did it.

Try as she may, Rose couldn't hold on. Couldn't wait. Couldn't be patient like him. She spoke.

"How did you know for sure?"

The look of confusion that crossed his features was almost comical but Rose was as far away from a laughing mood as someone in a cold lake could get. "About what?"

"No, I mean…" Rose gave a frustrated huff, looking past him anxiously as she bit her lip. "About me," she whispered, most of her initial gusto flooding from her chilled body. She shifted her eyes back to him, only to find him giving her an unreadable look. "How did you figure it out? _When_ did you figure it out? You told you mother that I'm worthy because _you_ say I am. How do you know that I am?"

Recognition flooded his expression with acute understanding. "_Oh_." Scorpius blinked at her in surprise. Astonishment. But he didn't sound particularly happy to have the discussion. "You're ready to talk about this. _Now_. In a lake."

After an awful argument with his mother.

And now she felt shit. "We don't have to."

"Just…" Scorpius sighed and it sounded brittle to her ears. "We can talk."

"No, really, it can wait." Rose gave a panicked chuckle. "I should wait. I… I've re-evaluated every other aspect of my life. And now you, as well. I should think about it a little more." She made a small noise. "Best not to have these discussions on an empty stomach."

"You pushed me… into a _lake_."

It seemed like he wasn't going to let that go for a while.

"Yes, well, you just told your mum… a lot of _things,_" Rose finished weakly, nauseated.

"That I _meant_," he responded firmly, holding her gaze for a moment before his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Where is all this coming from?"

"I'd say this is all random, but that's not quite true. I've had a few…" Rose smoothed down her wet hair because she was _nervous as fuck_. "Eye-opening conversations. Taken a look at everything." _Him_, but she thought it best not to say that aloud.

"I'm scared to ask." He chuckled weakly, but it was tense and _wrong_ so Rose didn't like it.

She didn't smile back.

Instead, Rose opened her mouth in an attempt to sort her own thoughts as she expressed them, but every attempt ended with an "_umm_" or an "_ahh._" Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke honestly.

Because that was how an agoraphobic spoke to the person they trusted enough to jump with from any height.

"I don't know what I'm doing, so I'm certain I'm doing this all wrong." Rose opened her eyes and found him staring at her warily. To distract herself, she peeled off a piece of hair that was stuck on his forehead and found the action hadn't helped much at all. It just brought them closer together in a way that felt normal, but different. "I told myself it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't an issue. But then, outside the Burrow, I—well. Then what you said to me, I—that was a lot. And what you said to your mum only confirmed that this is _definitely_ an issue. And I _can't_ ignore this. I can't delay speaking about it. _I tried_, and that's why we're about to freeze our bits off in this fucking lake."

"It's only an issue if you don't feel anything." His response was soft, but he looked tense; as if he were waiting for something to happen.

His grip loosened a bit on her as he steeled himself and Rose panicked a little more because she knew that look; she had seen it from him after Astoria's many departures. He was readying himself for her to refuse him. And Rose understood right then that refusal, rejection, or denial were feelings she never wanted him to associate with her.

"If you don't—"

"_I do_." Rose gripped his shirt under the water before he could let her go. "That's why it's an issue." She stared into his eyes. _Open_, just like her mum said, feeling brave in a way she hadn't before. And also feeling sick. "I do… feel something, that is." Rose peered at the front row of her mind where that wayward emotion sat patiently. "A lot of something that's hitting me pretty hard right now. _So much something_ I kind of want to yell at you and maybe cry a lot, but I'm trying not to be as dramatic as I know I am."

She tried to smile, but it was probably too wide and scary because Scorpius looked alarmed, so Rose just smothered it. Still, it didn't stop him from blinking at her multiple times. She could tell he was shocked because his mouth opened and closed several times before he exhaled. "_Oh._"

And because of her tendency to ramble, the words tumbled out of her in a rush. "I don't know what to do. You're giving me something important and I have no fucking _clue_ what to do with it. Am I supposed to water it or feed it or take it for walks?"

"It's a heart," Scorpius deadpanned. "Not a _dog_."

There was a moment where they just looked at each other and started laughing. Rose rested her forehead on the crook of his neck for a moment before lifting her head again. The tension that had lifted a bit between them returned with a vengeance.

"I think." Rose's smile faded just a bit. "I'm not just your friend, am I?"

Scorpius didn't answer because perhaps he understood how rhetorical her question had been.

"I'm an idiot."

He shook his head. "It's not like I was upfront."

"You actually _told_ me," Rose argued, annoyed with herself more than anything. "I just let this linger for two whole weeks because I've been scared and confused and trying to figure out what to do. How I should feel." Rose lowered her eyes, then raised them back up.

Scorpius' face was unreadable but so intense that it put her on the second edge she had stood on that day. Like before, when they had been fifty metres in the air, Rose felt every type of fear possible along with a heavy sprinkle of _what the fuck_ because—seriously, what was she doing? Rose hadn't planned so far ahead. _Or at all._ And yet, here she was. In a lake. Not really sure what the hell was next.

But then his grip on her changed and Rose automatically wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles around his waist. His hands went to the back of her thighs as he adjusted her in his grip, but kept his attention on her. And the fact that they were in water bled into the background like the hum of magic she felt when entering the wards at her mother's house.

It was just about them being in the moment. Together.

And they stayed like that, timeless and motionless. Neither knew what else to do.

But it couldn't last forever.

"Did you find out what you should feel?" Scorpius asked softly.

"I got as far as knowing I shouldn't be terrified because it's _you_, but gods, I _am_," Rose admitted with a small shudder, feeling as vulnerable as she was cold and both just _hurt_. "I'm so scared."

"Me too," he confessed as he caught the same chill and shivered. "You've been through a lot."

With an ease she could only feel with him, Rose left herself as open as he had two weeks ago. "I have, and I've got a lot to sort through, but I _will_. I'm already doing it. I'm growing. I'm _changing_, and _fuck_, it doesn't feel very good most of the time, but I am. I'm accepting it just like—"

"I _know _you're changing," Scorpius interjected. "I see it every day. It's why I told you. After what Lily said, I couldn't let you think that about yourself."

And it was funny how his acknowledgement meant as much as her mum's, but felt different in a new way that she was beginning to associate with him. "Thank you for telling me, but sometimes I forget that it's not about me and my feelings. _You're_ struggling, too, and you have been. I didn't fully understand that until today because while you're good at hiding it, I'm even better at missing _every fucking clue _I've been given. My mum—"

"I swear your mum knows _everything_," he choked out a laugh, teeth chattering a bit.

"_Gods._" Rose snorted, feeling like the bottom of the ice-cream carton. "It's horrible having a mother two steps ahead of everyone." She adjusted her hold on him and found herself very close. Her smile fell slightly. "Especially when you're like me and last to arrive. _Everyone_ knows how you feel about me, even my dad. Were you ever going to tell me?"

Scorpius cringed, but answered her honestly. "Eventually, when I was sure."

"Of what?"

"Of _you_."

_He's given you the power to hurt him… and all he can do is hope against all hope that you won't._

It didn't make her feel great, but she understood his fears. Rose wasn't really built for the sort of permanency this felt like. She wasn't easy to pin down, slow to recognise things she should have known a lifetime ago. But awareness brought her right to the point where she could acknowledge that she _wanted to be more_—both for him and mainly… for _herself_.

And with the determination that had been building with every word she spoke—the same in him that kept taking her hand, even after hesitating—she brought one arm out of the water and wrapped it around his neck, putting herself right there.

Heart to heart.

And despite the fact that she was shivering and scared, she touched his face with cold fingers. "I don't want us to ever get to the point where you'd rather suffer than talk to me. _I'd hate it__,_" Rose told him with an intensity that almost startled _her_. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort as he stared at her. _Listening_. "I know I don't say it enough to you, but you're my favourite person. I don't want you to keep things from me because you don't think I can handle it. Tell me what you want and—"

"_You_," he told her earnestly. "I want you."

Rose felt her breath catch at the passion in his voice, the very real fear that echoed in his words, and the truth in his blue eyes. It was overwhelming, but she couldn't force the doors to herself shut if she tried. Not now. Not after so much had been shared between them. So she continued on the same path. "I've got no clue how to be everything you've ever wanted."

"Just keep being _you_." And like she'd done in his bedroom the morning after her inquiry, Rose listened to what he _wasn't_ saying. _You're good enough._

Rose felt her breath hitch, felt the energy between them, felt herself continue to open up more—so much that her chest felt impossibly full. "But I'm no good at this." _I'm scared._

"We'll navigate this together." _Grow together. Learn together. Figure this out._

"I've got issues." _I'm more trouble than I'm worth._

"Obviously, with the way I just yelled at my mother, we _both_ do." _I don__'t care._

"But it's me." She vocalised her unspoken words in a whisper that was nearly lost in the wind.

"It's you." Scorpius sounded so certain that it made her almost lightheaded. After a shaky breath, he rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes, shivering a bit more as he spoke. "But we don't have to sort through everything right now. We can just build on this. It's a lot, even for me, and I'm in no rush." He chuckled and it sounded a bit dazed. "I didn't think my day would end up here and I'm just trying to process this."

"Me too," Rose confessed with a high-pitched laugh of her own that turned into a quiet gasp when he moved his hands from the back of her thighs to her lower back. "I just want…" Her words trailed off in a whisper.

"What _do_ you want?"

"I…" She closed her eyes, trying to find something to keep her emotions from going wild. Scorpius inhaled and, like always, she settled on him, now with the understanding that she did so because it was right. Natural. Easy. The chill of the water they were standing in became even more of an afterthought despite her physical reactions to the cold.

"Be honest," he reminded her in a voice barely above a whisper.

_Be open._

She lifted her head up to look at him once more. "I don't want to make a mistake and destroy what we have. I don't think I'd be able to stand it."

Scorpius nodded. "I understand, but that's not what I asked." Rose watched as water streaked down the centre of his forehead, down to the tip of his nose. And naturally, her eyes went further, to his mouth as he repeated his question: "I asked: what do _you_ want?"

Rose didn't answer immediately, giving herself a minute to reflect quietly in her own head. The minute turned into two as they held onto each other. It hadn't taken long for her to relax and allow herself to feel the comfort in the arms that were holding her, the comfort in the body that was so close to hers.

Definitely not normal for any sort of friendship.

"I want…" She shut her eyes, momentarily struggling to verbalise her feelings.

And it wasn't so much about them becoming real—because things were _very real_. It was more about her next actions. The storm in her mind had passed and now came the recovery. He'd given her the opportunity to pause, to wait to put her words into action. While that was nice, Rose—with her chest so impossibly full of emotions that it almost _hurt_—wasn't sure if she could accept the offer. Not when there was so much that she wanted right then, so much she wanted to share with and be _for_ him that it was tearing her apart.

Now that Rose understood it, those _wants_ had been tearing her apart for _weeks_. Which explained why she had been flailing so hard, why she'd been so overwhelmed by his confession. Why she needed direction on what to do or how to feel. Why she felt like she had to do _something_.

This was it.

Those wants and feelings were so unlike anything she'd associated with Scorpius that it scared her. Not in a fearful way that would stop her or make her doubt her sanity—which she probably should—but rather fearful in the way she'd been on the platform earlier.

_Earlier_ when she'd been holding on to him for dear life, willing to take the leap because she trusted him, all while hoping that they wouldn't be that one in ten million chance of failure.

Yes, she understood that all over again.

But in the end, even with her heart hammering and her nerves threatening to take control, Rose knew what she wanted. So she brought her other hand to his cheek and whispered in a voice that trembled under the enormous weight of the newly acknowledged affection she had for him. "Can I show you?"

This time, when Scorpius agreed with the slightest inclination of his head, Rose was the one who tipped them off the edge by pressing her mouth to his, gently working his open. Indulgent. Easy. Soft. Her kisses were everything she wasn't, everything Rose knew she had to be as they fell from the cliff of friendship and into the void of _something more_.

And falling had never been easy, it would never _be_ easy, but as they descended, Rose focused on the way he felt, on her heart that was still beating, on his shaking hands that were holding on to her just right, all while understanding and _accepting_ that nothing would be the same.

But acceptance didn't make her feel less anxious or terrified, nor did it suddenly give her the wisdom and fortitude she needed to not fuck any of it up.

It was just this: acceptance of him, appreciation for what this was, and acknowledgement of everything that was to come. All the work it would take, all the changes they would make, all the growth it would take. In her and in him.

And while Rose didn't want to rush anything, she couldn't be stagnant either.

Not when she wasn't alone.

Scorpius followed her lead, allowing her to set the pace to an ebb and flow all their own. It was nothing to fall into the rhythm of kissing; nothing at all to test each sensation with every nip of his lips and slow drag of her mouth against his.

Then another.

And then Scorpius _sank_ into it, taking everything Rose had to offer, kissing her like he had all the time in the world and a plan to use every bit of it. There were no nerves or hesitation coming from him because he was _sure,_ so certain of her that she _wanted_ to feel the same way about herself.

His confidence made her determined that she _would_.

With the water lapping all around them, Rose let him hold her tighter, allowing herself to make a small noise of surrender as she carded her fingers through his wet hair at the back of his head, deepening her kiss. Letting him take that time, and more, even with the hunger stirring in her.

Gods, she'd been an idiot to try and write any of this off and apologised the only way she knew how—not with words, but with touch. And though Rose still had her own private worries and they both had things to work through, kissing him _still_ felt like coming home after a long day, like realising her fears were nothing to be ashamed of.

Natural.  
Human.  
Not friendly.

Rose pulled back from kissing him to just _exist_. And in that moment of perfect silence with dusk settling all around them, they shared the same oxygen, the same peace and fortitude to work through this together. Rose found herself dizzy from the proximity, filled to the brim with emotions that threatened to spill over. She bit her bottom lip and—her stomach started _loudly_ protesting everything.

"Um?"

Scorpius laughed, but didn't move. "Was that what I think it was?"

"_Yes_," she answered irritably. "I haven't actually eaten in _ages_. But seriously? Damn you, stomach." Rose grouched. "Couldn't wait just a _little_ longer?"

His nose brushed against hers when he murmured, "Let's _go_."

Rose shivered, partly from the fact that she was cold, but mostly from the timbre of his words. She was about to ignore the chill in the air and snog him again, but her stomach growled again. Louder and a little more insistent. "_Fucking hell_."

That time, he laughed. "Come on."

Together, they made their way back to the dock and climbed out with little difficulty. After drying charms—ones that nearly made Rose's hair impossibly fluffy—they settled back on the blanket. Back to where they'd started.

Only things were much different.

Rose wasn't as out of sorts, wasn't as stressed. A bit relieved actually, but she had no idea why. They had work to do, lots of it, but perhaps she was okay with it because they were finally on the same page. Or rather, Rose had finally caught up with her reading. She sat with her legs stretched out and crossed while rummaging through her beaded bag for snacks. He'd mentioned food, but really, neither were ready to go.

She found a bag of crisps and sour watermelons, which they quietly shared until both were gone. It quelled her appetite for now. Scorpius had his knees raised casually as he leaned back on his hands, peering up at the dark sky, deep in thought. But he didn't seem as restless as before. Rose laid back on the blanket and looked up as well. It wasn't quite dark, but dusk had definitely made its appearance while they were in the lake, unaware of their surroundings. She didn't look long, more conscious of him than the sky.

Rose didn't know what she was going to do until she did it.

She uncrossed her legs and stood up, mentally calculating the logistics as she stepped over him, catching his attention from the atmosphere. His eyes tracked her as Rose lowered herself until she sat astride on him, legs tucked carefully. She leaned back on his raised knees, putting space between them that was needed in that moment because—well, it was intimate. Far more than she'd anticipated when she'd made the initial move.

But now that Rose was there, she had no plans to move.

_W__ell_, she didn't have much of a plan for anything, except to wait for him to make the next move.

Whatever it was.

Patience had never been her forte, but Scorpius didn't make her wait long. He moved, lifting from his reclined position, hands at her waist like they _belonged_ there as he shifted. His adjustments brought her right into his space and they stared at each other with new awareness.

"What are you doing?" he asked carefully, with just a bit of husk in his voice. _Interest_.

Rose held his gaze as she leaned heavily into him, resting tentative hands on his chest. "No clue." Well, that wasn't true. She _had_ a clue. It just very much involved continuing their activities from the lake.

Because now that the dam had been let loose, she just… _wanted_.

And she found that it was harder than she realised to articulate such a thing to him, of all people.

Scorpius looked cautious, but mostly intrigued, so close now that his lips brushed against hers when he asked. "What do _you_ want, Rose?"

And she allowed the first thought to come out. It was an instinct. Another moment of honesty in a long series of them in the last few weeks that had brought them to that moment.

"_You_," she answered in a voice that was barely audible, her focus completely on him as her hand snaked up to the side of his neck. "I just want you." When he shivered for no reason other than her actions, Rose's confidence _grew_. As did her words. "And whatever this is becoming." Even though it felt _big,_ like something she couldn't run from or ignore or avoid by sticking her head in the sand.

"We can move at your speed, do things at your pace," Scorpius assured her. "It'll be weird—"

"It's _already_ weird," Rose blurted out, then flushed. "But honestly, all I want to do is snog you until we get bored with it and figure out the rest tomorrow."

"That might take a while." He levelled her with a gaze of open _want_ that made her eyes widen and something warm shoot down her spine. Not quite hot, but getting there.

Rose brought her other hand to his cheek, searching his face before whispering. "Can I?"

"You don't have to ask every time."

And filed that away for the future when she lowered her mouth to his, her shoulders sagging as she relaxed into him. There was something about the air, the rhythmic resonances of the lake, the warmth of their bodies that kept Rose languid and slow, made her not want to hurry to where they were headed.

Not that she knew, but she had the inkling of an idea that was surfacing.

Rose let the idea spring forth in her mind. Let Scorpius kiss her with the controlled intensity that embodied him, the calm focus that assured her there was nowhere else he wanted to be. She let him touch her, teasing firm hands up the back of her shirt, then down, curving at her waist, then her hips, down her thighs. Then back up. Smiling into her kiss, swallowing the small noises she made, tensing when her hands slipped under his shirt, gripping the bottom. A quiet breath escaped him as they stared at each other.

_Okay? _

He answered by slowly raising his arms for Rose to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere. It could have landed in the lake for all she cared because um—well she couldn't stop _staring_. There was objectively _knowing_ that Scorpius was attractive, _noticing_ it when they were unhooking him from the harnesses, and _seeing_ it for herself in a very subjective way right then in the near darkness.

When Rose went to take off her own shirt—even playing field and all—Scorpius stopped her.

"_I care_," he told her between quick little kisses that made her burn a little brighter. "About this, and how we do this. I don't want to rush."

"That's _awfully_ reasonable for someone without a shirt."

"Maybe you should stop touching me."

And while she probably—no, _definitely_—should have been weird about everything, all she felt was blown away by how easy this was. How natural it felt. It took her back to the Burrow when she'd had similar thoughts and ignored them. Bloody hell, was she an _idiot_.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

And that was that. Scorpius pulled her closer, chest-to-chest, her arms automatically travelling to his bare shoulder. He snaked his hand behind her head and brought their lips together, taking over.

With the dam broken, the torrent of interest and emotions that welled up inside her flowed freely. Flush against each other, his hands on her bum and hers in his hair, Rose gasped into his open mouth. She began enjoying herself, enjoying the small thrills, the sensation of their hands and mouths moving against each other in a sync that was natural.

"Is this too much?" he whispered against her lips.

Absolutely yes, but also no. Not nearly.

She pulled off his glasses and sat them next to her. "I'll let you know."

That was all it took for the restraint Scorpius had thus far exhibited to vanish. He met each kiss with equal pressure and enthusiasm, challenging each move with one of his own. He was done holding back, clearly stating his intentions in a way she hadn't understood last time. And Rose found herself shedding a little bit of baggage with each kiss and caress, melting into it, _wanting it_, and starving the little part of her brain that wondered if she deserved any of this at all because all she was going to do was mess it up.

He wanted this.

And fears aside, so did she.

It really should have been strange, maybe awkward, but actually, there was a sort of tenderness that was beyond anything she'd imagined. They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, just snogging, touching each other, feeling the physical signs of him _wanting her_, but not ready for more. The constant sound of the water behind them muted the small sounds they couldn't help making. His hands felt warm through her shirt and hers cupped his face, holding him where she wanted, showing him just how she liked to be kissed. Wanted to be touched. Where to be held.

And while Scorpius was excellent at following directions, he was even better at presenting some of his own ideas.

Particularly one that had him arching against her in a move that shot liquid fire to her core.

Oh.  
_Fuck_.

They both froze, breath hitched, and she wondered if she looked as wild-eyed as he did.

"Sorry," he said as soon as he'd done it, shuddering and clenching his jaw.

"Do it again," Rose insisted, completely on board as she rocked her hips into him, trying to find the right angle, what worked with the thin layers of clothes between them. It was more than just biology. More than any other stupid excuse she'd made before because none of her past experiences came _close_.

Gods, she'd been absolutely _clueless_.

Now on a new mission of _giving__, giving, giving_, Rose tangled her shaking fingers in his blond hair and kissed him. His face. Neck. Anywhere she could reach. And as Rose slowly dragged her hips against his with purpose and determination, Scorpius said one thing, her name, but his body said something completely different.

And she listened to his body and continued. _Slower_. The low moan that came from him made her gasp and she ground down on him. It was good. The pressure, the heat coming from him… it was so good. _Too good_. She'd done it for him, but _her_ body felt like an exposed nerve. His hand squeezed her hips, but his face was so unreadable she silently prayed he wouldn't make her stop, _prayed_ that he would stop thinking and just _feel_ what she felt.

"It's okay," Rose whispered, panting against his open mouth, rocking against him with urgency. "_I want this._"

"_Okay_." He exhaled sharply, like he was nearing the end of his tether. His hand travelled up the back of her shirt in a simple move that sent fresh shock waves through her. Rose swore in a sigh and ground down on him harder, giving more and accepting little. _Sharing_. "Nothing more than this."

"Just—this is fine." Better than fine. All she could handle right then, actually. She urged him on, moving faster, a little harder, their hips working together in rhythm. Nothing mattered. Just them. His hands were gripping her so hard it almost hurt, but she made no effort to wiggle free.

"Could you?" she asked breathlessly. "_Like this_?"

Scorpius dropped his head on her shoulder, breathing harshly against her. "_Yes_."

After that, everything became incoherent, a mixture of sighs and moans as Rose undulated her hips. As if out of his control, his fingers began digging into her back, her bottom, as he helped her along to meet each of his sharp, short snaps of his hips. It was happening so fast, the pleasure rising up in both of them. There was no stopping, waiting, thinking. Scorpius said her name in a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a moan, and she felt something constrict in her. _Fuck_. Scorpius dug his teeth into the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder and started shuddering, swearing, _groaning_… and Rose felt something _break_ inside her.

There was no tsunami or tidal wave. No clichéd electric spark. Nothing of the sort.

It was just _feelings_.

Ones so intense they bordered on _painful_ and left her breathless, heart threatening to punch its way through her chest. She heard herself moaning something high-pitched and fucking _terrible_, but couldn't stop herself. Then… she let go with him, and they both almost collapsed on the blanket, out of breath. And for a very long time after, they held onto each other, not letting go until the feelings faded, dulled, ended.

When Rose had her wits about her again, she thought about picking up the bits of insecurities she'd dropped along the way, but then Scorpius told her to stop squirming and rubbed her back. And that was that. She left them there and ran tentative fingers through his hair with her eyes still shut. She focused on the quick rhythm of his heart. And they stayed like that for a long while, while the lake rocked gently in the background.

The silence between them was easy in a way that strengthened their connection, not only because of what they'd shared physically, but also in the moment they were having. It wasn't as if they had nothing to say—oh, there was _plenty_ to sort through—but more than words just weren't necessary.

Until they were.

"Well." Scorpius chuckled. "I need a shower."

Rose couldn't help it.

She burst out laughing.

And so did he.

* * *

By the next day, there was a problem.

They woke up before dawn like normal, went for their first hour-long morning run like normal, and watched the sunrise over the valley below. Again, like normal. They went back to their flats for showers and met up for protein smoothies. Rose still complained about the vegetables—like normal.

Everything was normal.

Well… except for all the snogging they did between those activities.

Once that physical dam had broken, they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

And that was the problem.

It was like her brain reminded her that she was twenty-one, hadn't been shagged in forever, and was _now _in the presence of someone _very willing _to change her circumstances. Funny how that worked. Also funny was the fact that Scorpius _very much _wasn't on board with shagging right out of the gate. So, Rose found herself repeatedly telling her libido to sit the fuck down and settle for some snogging, heavy petting, and character-building torture.

Because she was a mature adult, who could keep herself in check just as well as Scorpius, who was some sort of Restraint Saint.

It really wasn't fair.

The morning after the lake, there hadn't been a good snog, because Scorpius was too busy trying to force her to let go of the bed, but he'd given her a quick snog when he returned to find her already dressed and putting her hair up. And that had just perked her up, though Rose wouldn't admit it on pain of death. _But it did_. On their run, he still ran in front, but they barely watched the sunrise because they were at it like Sixth Years in the alcove. They still took showers alone, still drank smoothies at his flat, but afterwards, because Al had gone to help Jane weed her garden at the Burrow, Rose found herself in his lap on the sofa necking like there was no one else on Earth.

That was really the only way to describe it because Scorpius wouldn't leave her neck alone.

In fact, Rose was moaning—the high-pitched one she hated—while grinding against his thigh as Scorpius blazed a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck when his dad came through the fireplace.

They both froze.

Well, actually, _everyone froze_.

As though he weren't groping her bum and very interested in everything that had been happening, Scorpius said in a low, calm voice only heard between the two of them. "I thought you closed off the Floo."

"I don't _actually _live here," Rose argued through gritted teeth.

A throat cleared behind them. "I'll be back in five minutes and when I return, we'll never speak of this. Agreed?"

Rose gave him a thumbs up.

And then they were alone.

When his dad returned—a bit more warily—they were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. Rose was happily sipping her coffee with too much sugar while Scorpius pretended to read a book, his eyes darting back and forth between the pages. They both looked up at his arrival.

"Good morning, Mr. Draco," Rose said sunnily.

Scorpius buried his head in the book, and if she listened closely, she could hear his mortified groan. His father, on the other hand, looked far more humoured by her decision to use overly dramatic exuberance to avoid awkwardness. It was a tactic she used sometimes to get out of humiliating experiences, and that one seemed as good as any to use now.

To his son, he said, "I brought your books," and set them on the table.

His eyes skimming over everything except them.

Scorpius looked like a mix between mortified and unbothered—like the two sides of him were at war. "Um… thanks dad." He seemed reluctant for a moment before he asked, "How's—"

"With her family having breakfast."

Rose looked at Scorpius, feeling the heaviness slowly roll in.

"Your mother will be fine, and honestly, she's not my concern. You are. I think you should focus on yourself and…" Mr Draco's eyes cut over to her. "The recent _changes_ in your life. The rest will sort itself out." And while his dad wasn't completely wrong, Rose had never seen Scorpius so flustered. Then Mr. Draco took mercy on him with a wave of his hand. "I'll see you at the restaurant opening this week. Both of you."

Then he left again.

Rose placed her coffee on table and shifted over to the middle cushion, acknowledging the previously ignored elephant in the room by resting her head on his shoulder, curling her body against him, resting a hand over his heart. Scorpius didn't seem as troubled as he had been yesterday, just a little quieter.

Then, bolder still than she had been yesterday, Rose asked. "What can I do?"

"This."

She obliged him for several minutes, long enough for her to nearly drop off to sleep. That was until the wheels in her mind caught up to her and Rose realised what the _hell_ Mr. Draco had said. "Did your dad just—"

"Trick you into dinner later this week? _Yes_."

Rose almost growled her irritation, but sighed instead. "I suppose if we're sorting this out, I should probably have dinner with your family. Make an effort and all that rubbish." Although she'd tried that once with his mum and that hadn't gone great. "In the spirit of being two feet in this."

Because she was.

"What about around other people?" Scorpius asked diplomatically, resting his hand on top of hers that was still on his chest.

She thought about it. "In theory, I'd like to get used to this before we bring everyone else in on it." At some point, the media would get involved, and as much as Rose hated it, she had also accepted it as inevitable. Scorpius made a little noise of agreement. "In actuality, my mum's going to figure it out the moment she sees us at brunch today, should we decide to go. There will be _looks_, and if she pulls out her camera, just run for it. Okay?" He snorted and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Ah, so his little funk was over. "Al will also figure it out pretty quickly, too."

At that, Scorpius froze, then swore under his breath, like he'd only just in that instant remembered that Al knew him _too_ well. Rose laughed until he rolled his eyes and brushed his hair from his face. "I've ignored Al's secrets, so he'll ignore this."

"Secrets?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough." And he just left it at that. What? Rose lifted her head to glare at him suspiciously, but he just gave her an enigmatic smile that basically told her to leave it. And she would—for now. Because when had Rose ever left well enough alone?

Besides, they had other things to discuss. "We'll revisit that. But for now, you want to tell those who matter and wait a while before telling everyone else?"

"It'll be an actual zoo when the papers find out, so yes. Let's hold that off as long as possible." Which sounded like a fair enough plan. He looked at her, smirking. "Pet names?"

Rose cut her eyes at him. "Unless you want me to call you something insipid, _Score_."

He blanched. "Forget I _ever_ said anything."

She laughed loud and long. "Will do." Then she chewed on the inside of her lip. "We could always skip my family's brunch. Just stay here and…"

"Since when have you _ever _suggested skipping a meal? Much less your grandmother's cooking. And the sausages. She makes sure she gets the spicy ones you like. Besides, I like her vegetarian quiche. I haven't had it in a while."

He had an excellent point, but there were other things she wanted to do. Rose didn't tell him that because she was better than that. Partly. "_Fine_, we'll go, but _only_ because of the sausages."

Scorpius smiled. "Then we should probably get changed and head over."

Rose grouched, but left through the Floo. They met up half an hour later and stepped out of the Floo into an empty sitting room at the Burrow. She was just about to count her lucky stars when her dad came in, head turned away, yelling to someone that he was going to check in the room where they were, but when he turned and saw them, he gave them both a smile.

"We weren't expecting you…." He cut his eyes over to Scorpius. "_Two_." Her dad gave Scorpius a look that made him look up at the ceiling as if he'd suddenly seen something interesting. _Weird_. To Rose, he said, "Al and Jane are outside in her garden. I think the gnomes like her."

_Every__thing_liked Jane, so that wasn't a surprise. "Hi dad." Rose approached him and he swallowed her in a hug that she welcomed. "Where's mum?"

"Helping in the kitchen." Which was on the way outside so if she thought she would be able to bypass her mother, well, _that_ wasn't going to happen. Bugger. Rose pulled back from hugging her dad and caught him giving Scorpius _another_ odd look. She looked over her shoulder at him, then back at her dad. "I thought you were going to the match with your family today."

Rose almost slapped her palm against her forehead at her dad's lack of filter.

To be fair, he didn't know, but still.

As always, Scorpius was calm as ever. "Change of plans."

He blinked twice, then shrugged. "Well, the more the merrier. Everyone will be happy to see you."

There was a pause that was too long and Rose cleared her throat. "Aren't you supposed to be finding something…"

"Oh! Right." When he slid past them, hunting for whatever he was supposed to bring back, she grabbed Scorpius' hand and pulled him out the room.

They walked the hall leisurely, not running into anyone, and the sound of voices grew louder and louder as they approached the kitchen. Scorpius slowed his steps noticeably enough for her to turn her head. "You should probably let my hand go if we're keeping this to ourselves."

And while it wasn't the first time anyone had seen them holding hands, she thought he made a fair point. Rose let go of his hand just in time for James to spot them as he came out of a room carrying what looked like a tablecloth. "Al said you weren't coming—no matter. The food's not ready yet." Which was notable because whenever she attended family brunch, Rose _never_ turned up before the food was on the table.

Rose nodded and he shoved the bundle of cloth at her, giving her no choice but to accept it.

"Here, I'm going to hide until the food's ready. Mate." He turned to Scorpius. "I suggest you do the same or else they'll make you do things."

"I'll take my chances."

"It's your funeral."

Aunt Ginny called for James and he winced. "Take that. Tell them I went to the loo. Be creative."

Then he made his escape.

Rose took his direction as literally as she felt like it—because she was an absolute _pra__t_—and when they entered the kitchen, she had a fully formed plan to get the hell out of there before her mum could get a good look at them.

She dropped the tablecloth on the bare table and when Aunt Ginny, who was standing at the sink between her mum and Victoire, asked where James had run off to, she announced, "James asked me to bring this because he's got a sudden case of _bumfluenza_."

Scorpius almost choked on air, and everyone just froze. Her mum actually slapped her forehead.

But then everyone burst out laughing when her Nan put her hand on her chest and said, _"Oh my."_

And during the uproar of laughter, Rose shoved him in the direction of the door where they slipped out… and of course her mum's eyes tracked them all the way. She would bide her time like always, but Rose would be ready.

And for now, at least they were free from her knowing _looks_.

"_Bumfluenza_?" Scorpius laughed as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

"It did the trick, did it not?" Rose laughed, but stopped to dig around in her beaded bag before producing his prescription sunglasses and handing them to him. "Swiped them off your desk. Thought you might need them."

He stuck his glasses in his pocket, but before he put the sunglasses on, Scorpius gave her a heated look that made her feel warm, a look she ignored by continuing on the path to Jane's garden.

Jane was sitting on a tree stump just outside the garden with her legs folded and her head tilted to the sky in meditation while Al laid in the grass, watching her. The besotted sod. The weeding, as it appeared, was complete.

Rose picked the best greeting that would sound perfectly normal. "Hiya."

She knew immediately it was the wrong one when three sets of eyes gave her varying degrees of strange looks.

She elbowed Scorpius, but he just gave her a fond smile. "Et tu Brute?"

"Hiya?" he drawled, his eyebrow raising above the frame of his sunglasses. Scorpius leaned in a bit closer. Probably too close for all the pretenses they were supposed to uphold. "That's the best you could do?"

"_Bumfluenza _took all my creativity, o—"

"Bloody _hell_!" Al blurted out. Both their heads turned sharply in his direction, only to find him pointing at his best friend. Then her. Then back to him. Al's mouth was open, trying to formulate words and Scorpius just sighed impatiently and waited for him to finish spluttering. "You two—"

"Have acknowledged your special relationship," Jane interjected serenely.

Well, that wasn't a bad way of putting it, but Scorpius put it in more realistic terms. "We're figuring it out." Or snogging it out. Or both. Whichever. All of it worked for them right then so they were going with it.

"Must have been _some_—"

"And we're done talking about it," Rose cut Jane off. When Al opened his mouth to continue, she raised her fist threateningly. "It's a thing. Don't tell a soul or I'll—"

Scorpius tapped her on the shoulder. "I got this. _Al_."

And the two had one of their weird expressive conversations before her cousin flushed bright red and cleared his throat. "Is it time to eat? I'm starved!" Rose gave him and Scorpius suspicious looks of her own, but then Jane got up and wanted to introduce Rose to her plants while the best friends walked away in the opposite direction.

Rose followed Jane through the wooden archway, looking back just in time for Al to jump on Scorpius' back, an act that took them both to the ground where they laid and laughed about it. Rose found herself smiling at the sound, but then rolled her eyes when Scorpius said something she couldn't hear and Al responded by hitting him repeatedly in the arm while he laughed even harder.

_Boys_.

Jane's garden was teeming with budding life. She had two raised garden beds stretching down both sides of her designated space with an aisle right down the middle. She had little tags that identified everything. Herbs on one side, flowers on the other, and mint all alone in the back.

"Because it's too friendly," was all she said.

_That_ got weird quick.

Now back on their feet, Al shoved Scorpius, which earned him being pulled into a headlock. Al was flailing his arms and she could hear Scorpius laughing so hard that she found herself chuckling as well. Rose shook her head at their ridiculousness before focusing on her own.

"Over here is Othello the oregano. Around him are his friends: Sally the sage, Lucy the lavender, and Roberta the rosemary. Everyone, this is Rose. Say hello!" Rose blinked at her because she had no idea what was happening and shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow she still was. Jane gave the plants a conspiratorial look. "Don't mind her, she's just nervous around new plants. You're all lovely."

Rose turned her eyes to the sky. "Why is this happening to me?"

Jane just gave her a little smile and hummed to herself while checking her flowers while Rose just watched. She was in coveralls that had dirt on the legs and a white shirt. Her bangs were braided up in pigtails. She looked content, sweaty, and overall pleased with all she'd accomplished—how she had turned the weed infested patch of grass into a garden that was all her own.

Jane was odd, but her determination expanded into all parts of her life.

"I'm happy you've stopped ignoring what I've known since I met him." Which seemed to be a running theme—_e__veryone_ knowing everything before her. "I'm glad you understood his language."

Whatever _that_ meant.

"Um…" She thought it best to change the subject because she had no idea what to say. "How was the rest of the party?"

Jane shrugged. "We left after his mum came back. She looked upset." Rose shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "We were going to find you all, but we figured Scorpius might need some time away from everyone. So we all went to have pizza and then later on, we went to a silent disco Quincy found. It was so much fun. Henrietta and Marcus—"

Rose's eyes widened in shock. Not so much that Marcus had gone, because he was always looking for an adventure, but Henrietta? Well, that was surprising. "Henrietta went out in public for something other than work? Colour me shocked."

"She did." Jane touched the soil around a budding flower. "She's nice when she's not frowning about everything. And Marcus made her smile _a lot_."

_That was interesting_.

She heard her Nan shouting for them to come inside so everyone abandoned what they were doing and did just that.

Brunch was smaller than usual, because Uncle George was visiting Aunt Angelina's family in Surrey since Fred was back in town. Victoire and Teddy were there, but their parents were away visiting Aunt Fleur's family in France; they were set to return later on that day. And Dominique and Louis were about as sporadic with their attendance as Rose, so only Dominique was there. Uncle Percy had an emergency at work and Aunt Audrey was having brunch with friends.

Uncle Charlie sat right next to her and grinned slyly—a look Rose pointedly _ignored_—when Scorpius took the seat across from her between Al and James, simultaneously organising a pickup Quidditch game for afterwards with her dad, Teddy, and Uncle Harry. James (who was not talking to her because of _bumfluenza_), Al, Aunt Ginny, and Scorpius wanted in, so Dominique offered to referee—something they all groaned at because she didn't always call fouls.

Despite her sweetness, Dominique had been a bit ruthless when she was the Gryffindor Chaser.

Rose was glad she didn't fly.

Granddad reminded them all that their brooms were still in the shed. He was going to spend his time after brunch on his latest obsession: a computer.

As always, Nan looked happy to see them, but was especially happy to chat with Jane and talk about all the plants she'd seeded for her garden. Jane offered to help Nan with her own gardening—something she agreed to with a gentle smile and a soft look in Al's direction. Her cousin blushed hard before drinking his pumpkin juice.

As for her mum, well, she was smiling one of her all-knowing smiles that Rose hated.

_And _ignored.

Everything was going well. The food was fantastic, the conversation was lively, and at the end of brunch, Rose was _just_ about to agree with Scorpius that it was a good thing that they'd come.

Then Lily walked in.

Everything got quiet for a moment before all the parents (save her mum who just smiled politely), Uncle Charlie, Teddy, and Victoire—greeted her loudly as though no one had expected her to be there. Nan got up and started fussing about making sure they had enough to fill her up—which _of course_they did—while Uncle Harry greeted his youngest with a hug and a kiss on her forehead.

No one caught the lack of greeting from the rest of the table, but it was fine because Lily greeted everyone else with smiles and enthusiasm, and instead of taking the seat next to James at the end of the table, she didn't look at any of them before she made a seat between her parents and the rest of them shifted down.

Brunch continued as normal, but soon after, the ones playing Quidditch were heading out, while Rose, much to the surprise of everyone, offered to help clean. They shooed her along, instructing her to get blankets for everyone to sit on while they watched the game.

She looked in three rooms before finding a stack of blankets in one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. Wood creaked behind her letting her know that someone was there.

It was Scorpius. "Need a hand?"

"Aren't you supposed to be outside preparing to play?"

"Yes, but Al's beater bat was up here and he couldn't remember where it was." He held up the bat and continued walking towards her. Rose went into the room and sat on the bed. And sighed. Scorpius shut the door behind him.

"So… Lily's here," she said lamely because she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Rose shrugged. "As long as she doesn't say anything, I won't."

"That's mature of you." He wasn't being facetious. "One day, you're going to have to talk to her again, but on your own terms. Just like one day…" he trailed off, but Rose understood what he was saying.

One day, should his mother decide to come around, he would have to do the same. He would forgive, but not forget, because that was the sort of person he was. Rose wasn't so forgiving, not so willing to mend the bridge between them.

More inclined to watch it burn.

But the truth was that she didn't want to be like that. Didn't want the bitterness to fester any longer than it had. And the wounds from her words had already lingered too long. So, Rose resolved something in herself. Like Scorpius had decided with his mother, should Lily get her act together, she would try. If she never bothered, then Rose would let it go. There were other, more important things for her to focus on, other changes that needed her attention, and not just the one in front of her.

However, that was the change looking her in the eyes.

And she found it funny that, once again, everything was different, but nothing had changed. Not between them, not their balance and the way Scorpius could put things into perspective for Rose in that quiet way of his. Not in the way he knew to use some horrible excuse to check in on her.

"What?" He quirked a brow at her.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Over and over, Rose was reminded of the fact that while they were working to be more, while they were playing on a different field with a new set of rules, he was very much still the same person. Nothing had or _would_ change him.

That was comforting in a way she hadn't known she needed.

"After the game..." He looked down a bit. "We could go see a film, maybe get ice-cream."

Rose almost laughed and stood up. "Scorpius, are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes." He looked a little bashful when he shrugged. "A small one. Just so our first actual date won't be the restaurant opening with my grandparents and dad."

That was extremely fair. "I accept, and I won't say anything when you want to go into Flourish and Blotts. I'll even glare at anyone who would dare try to grab the last book from you."

"And I won't say anything about your terrible taste in film. I won't roll my eyes—"

"_Or_ complain about the lack of realism when the main character jumps from building to building?" Scorpius gave her a look and crossed the room in that easy way of his; not stopping until he was standing close to her in a way that would have given her pause twenty-four hours ago.

Even though it was all still a bit tentative, she welcomed it. She was still getting used to it.

To him.

"You're asking a lot." He smirked.

Rose allowed herself to grin and he kissed her for it.

Scorpius dropped the beater bat on the chair next to the bed in favour of wrapping his arms around her. Rose allowed her mind to drift as she thought about their snogging, and how much they'd done in the last twelve hours or so. Seemed like a lot. Honestly, she couldn't remember ever kissing someone so much. Or thinking about it so much. Or liking it so much.

Or feeling so at ease about it.

"I'll take the blankets and you take the bat," he mumbled against her partially opened mouth.

Rose ran her tongue on the inside of her bottom lip and looked into his eyes. "Okay." He gave her a quick snog, smiled, and picked up the blankets. "You know, we've snogged a lot over the last twelve or so hours."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, but you've never…" _Been one for showing emotion or affection as openly_, she thought but couldn't say. Because when the pot met a kettle that was just as black, it probably shouldn't complain. It should accept it. Appreciate it. Enjoy it. "You don't…"

"I'm making up for lost time."

The only thing she could say to his statement was: _"O__kay__."_

But then he chuckled and led the way. Rose grabbed the bat and walked quickly to catch up.

Not too long after, she was sitting on the blankets getting her hair braided into matching pigtails as they watched the four-on-four Quidditch game with two rings instead of three. Uncle Harry and Teddy were chasing the snitch while her dad and Scorpius were beaters for opposite teams and Aunt Ginny and James battled Uncle Charlie and Al as chasers, but it looked like everyone was more or less dodging the aggressive bludger.

Her mum came out and sat down on the other side of Rose with a large book that was the same book Mr. Draco brought by Scorpius' flat earlier. When he'd caught them. "Who's winning?" her mother asked without looking up from her book.

"Tied at fifty because everyone's running from the Bludger." As she said that, Al dropped out of the way of the Bludger that flew through the ring then came back and nearly took out Uncle Charlie. "Why they play with the Bludger, I'm not sure."

"Al's mum says they play with it to keep their skills sharp," Jane chimed in.

"Or they have a death wish."

Scorpius blocked Aunt Ginny's shot and hit the Quaffle right into James's hand. Rose yawned.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to cheer him on," her mum quipped in a teasing tone. "You know, since the abrupt change in—"

"_Mum!_" Rose started to jerk her head, but Jane wouldn't let her. Still, her mother laughed. "You couldn't wait _five_ minutes?"

"_No_, not with the way you two are so obvious." She paused for a beat. "So, you figured out how blind you've been?"

"You could say that I listened to your advice… and shoved him into a lake."

Jane laughed, but her mum muttered, "_Oh gods,_" under her breath. Then she laid down her book and started braiding the other half of Rose's hair. Then she thought about the brighter side of it all. "At least you didn't scream at him."

Rose chuckled darkly. "It took _a lot_ of effort." Jane laughed harder while Rose sulked as best as she could without the range of motion needed to make it more effective. "You could have just _told_ me that I fancied him. It would have saved us both from freezing our bits off." She rolled her eyes. "I feel like you knew it all along."

"Not _all _along. Not from you, at least. His dad and I figured Scorpius out _years _ago. Thought Draco was going to have a _stroke_ when he stormed into my office after I sent Scorpius home with that picture of you two from his first visit to the Burrow." She smiled fondly at the memory while Rose looked at her as she'd gone mad. _"Good times."_

"You _do _know you sound like you should be sitting in your lair with a cat on your lap, right?"

Jane started snickering, but Rose was completely serious.

"I would be, but Hugo's allergic to their dander, so here I am, _cat-less_."

She joined in with her friend, laughing until it faded into sighs.

"Now you, Rose, I didn't figure you out until the winter of your Sixth Year—" At that, she sputtered, because she was absolutely _positive_ that she had never once thought of Scorpius like that back then. But Rose didn't argue. Just listened. "Do you remember the night he came after a fight with his mother? I found you two standing out there in the cold hugging and wrapped up in that thin blanket you loved so much."

"The sloth one." Rose smiled. It was still in her room. Scorpius said it itched, the prat.

"Right," her mum said. "You didn't complain once about the cold. It made me wonder."

But… well, she actually _did_ remember that night—if only as yet _another _example of Astoria planning her son's life without his consent during one of her visits. What had Rose said to him?

_No one can tell you who you are, or who you will become._

Scorpius had given her a surprised and strange look—well, _actually_. Hmm. She'd seen that look before. _So, not that strange_, but rather… _ah_. It had been intense. Warm. Affectionate. The same look he'd given her when he…

"Well, _shit_."

Her mum ignored her swear word and barked out a laugh. "There's more. I noticed the fact that you actually share food with him. Outside of Hugo and _maybe_ your dad, you don't share with _anyone_." Jane snorted and mumbled something about language as she finished up her braid while Rose scowled as best as she could at both of them. "In the hospital, you held on to him because he made you feel safe. And though I've looked the other way, I notice that you _continue_ to feel safe around him. Every night." Rose literally stopped breathing and of course—because her mother was the _worst_—once again, she took her silence as permission to continue. "Al mentioned that he hasn't slept at home in weeks, so I just _assumed_. Correctly, judging from the look on your face."

"Now, I feel like dying. _Thanks_." Also like plotting the murder of her cousin. Sorry Jane.

"Lecture aside, just be careful, your dad and I aren't ready to be grand—"

"_Mum!_" So maybe she _had _already died and now she was in hell. In response, her mother only shrugged like it was a valid point and finished her braid. Ah, so that was how mortification felt. "I hate it here." But then Rose realised something _very _important and turned her head, pointing accusatory fingers at her mum. "You dumped his feelings on me _on purpose!_"

Her mother shook her head and waved a finger. "First, you consented. Second, I did it just to see how you would react." She said it lightly while Jane looked fascinated by her mum's brain. She wasn't the first. "If you really didn't care, his feelings wouldn't have bothered you, but they did. I could tell you had a lot weighing on you and thought _maybe_ it had to do with him. Partly." She shrugged. "It was a lucky guess."

Rose pouted. Or at least she tried to, but honestly, she was in too good of a mood for dramatics.

Which was funny because as soon as the thought registered, Lily and Victoire emerged from the Burrow. While the latter rushed over to let Jane braid her blonde hair as well—electing for a braided crown—the former was slow to approach. She sat in the grass instead of on the very edge of the blanket, as far away as she could get. Conversation over, Rose decided to focus on the game instead while Jane chattered away, rapidly swapping from the game to talking about how soft Victoire's hair was in comparison to Rose's, but that it made it harder to braid.

There was an insult in there _somewhere_.

The first two people to exit the game were Al, who got clipped by the aggressive Bludger and had to steer his broom down, and Aunt Ginny, who bowed out to keep the teams even. Dominique hadn't called a single foul. And even though Rose didn't know too much about Quidditch that she cared to remember, she knew at least _three_ had been committed.

By the time the players had taken their brooms to the shed and then joined the rest on the blanket, both teams had scored and neither Teddy nor Uncle Harry were close to catching the snitch. Scorpius was busy blocking shots _and_ the Bludger. Aunt Ginny sat next to Rose's mum while Al squeezed by Jane, who smiled at him before putting the finishing touches on Victoire's braid.

Lily, meanwhile, said nothing to anyone. Her silence was as suspicious as her late arrival.

The fact that she was so removed from everyone and quiet was something Victoire took notice of as soon as her hair was finished. "Lily, you know you don't have to sit all the way over there, right?"

Her cousin turned her head, looked directly at Rose, and said, "I wouldn't want to offend anyone."

Because Rose knew a trap when she saw one, she knew better than to say or look out of the ordinary. And while Victoire and Aunt Ginny both told her that, no, she wouldn't offend anyone and to stop acting so strange, Rose glanced at her mum from the corner of her eyes and found that she'd gone back to her book. Jane and Al were looking at each other. "I'm fine here. I don't want to spread my _toxic_ ways to you all. I don't want you all to have to continue to _pretend_."

Victoire looked very confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Why don't you ask _Rose__?_"

Rose sighed. Because of course Lily was going to try and spin all this on her. Everyone looked at her, some for different reasons than others. Jane got up and walked off, then started doing cartwheels in the grass nearby. She was giving them space. Victoire's brows were furrowed and she looked almost hurt. "What is she talking about?"

"Nothing," Rose answered evenly because it wasn't their business.

"Oh, so you _didn't _call me toxic? You _didn't _say that you're finished pretending I'm not a complete and utter _shit_? That you were _done _keeping the peace? That you didn't _care about me_? You didn't tell them any of that?"

Rose really tried.

_Really_.

But diplomacy was more Scorpius' thing and he wasn't there to stop her. Or maybe he wouldn't. He had been rather surprising as of late when he came to vocalising his thoughts and opinions. Her mum was there and she raised her head from her book, mouth open and ready to come to Rose's aid, but she didn't need the assistance. Nor did she want it. And it seemed that her mother realised this and closed her mouth. She looked right at Rose, then at Lily, before her eyes went back to her book.

Fantastic.

If Lily wanted to drag their fight in front of their family, then so be it. "I said all of that. And I _meant it_."

"What's going on here?" Aunt Ginny asked, more intrigued now. And not in a good way.

"You're _really_ doing this, Lily?" And the question didn't come from her but from Al, who looked thunderous.

"I see you're taking up for her, so yes, I _am_ doing this. I feel—"

"Frankly, unless you're here to apologise, I don't give a fuck about your feelings," he snapped.

Victoire's eyes went wide almost comically as she hadn't heard Al swear like that in years. If ever. His mum looked equally as stunned. Jane was now doing handstands and singing to herself, not that Rose could hear her. "You don't get to call her—"

"I don't owe _you_ an apology."

"No, you don't. I _never_ asked for an apology for myself, because you're my sister and your words don't hurt me anymore." Rose looked at Al because, well, it seemed that Scorpius wasn't the only one finished with remaining silent. "You owe _Rose_ one because your words hurt _her_. You don't know what it was like when Rose woke up, how terrified she was, and how crazy this has been. And the reason you don't know is because—since it's not happening to _you_—you don't give a damn—"

"Al," Rose said thinly. "I appreciate it, but I don't need you to fight my battles."

"I'm not fighting your battle, I'm about _tired_ of Lily's woe-is-me _shit_." To his sister, he said. "Why did you even come today? You _knew_ we'd be here. Did you come to tattle on us for saying everything you needed to hear?"

"I didn't come for _you_," Lily snapped. "I came to see our family, but you've all _attacked me_—"

Rose turned her head so hard the ends of her pigtails hit her mum in the face. "_You_ don't get to come here and play the victim, which is ironic because that's _exactly_ what you accused me of doing." She brought her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "Now, was that _before _or _after _you called me a—"

"_Pause!_" Aunt Ginny bellowed over them all. "One person. At a time. Slowly tell me what the _hell_ is going on." Because that was how refereeing worked in their family. As long as she could make it out without having to 'hug it out' in any way, shape, or form, Rose would consider it a victory.

Jane skipped towards the Quidditch game, doing cartwheels as she went.

"Rose started it!"

Which made her scoff. Loudly. "What are we? _Five_? For fuck's sake!"

"Rose," her mum said, giving her a look. "_Language_."

"Al said shit _and_ fuck. Also, Aunt Ginny—"

Her mother considered it for a moment, then made a decision. "You know what, Rose? Go for it."

_T__hat _was all the permission Rose needed.

Lily, however, wasn't finished griping. "She—"

Aunt Ginny held up her hand. "I hear you, Lily. You've told us what Rose said to you, but what did _you_ say to _her_?" Lily just gaped at her mum. Hell, they all were blinking at her wildly.

Not her mum, though, who had flipped a page in her book, looking ready to step in if needed, but perfectly fine with sitting it out. Rose appreciated her neutrality as it allowed her the opportunity to speak for herself.

"While I believe Rose said _every_ single word of that and _more_," her aunt gave her a _look_. "She's never been one to lash out without provocation. That's not in her nature, but it _is_ in yours to start a war when you feel wronged. Even when you haven't been."

Lily's face went red.

Now that she'd gotten their parents and family involved, she looked like she no longer wanted to admit how their fight had started. But Aunt Ginny was waiting not-so-patiently, along with everyone else.

And because Rose was a shit, she tilted her head to the side. "Go on, tell her what happened."

Her cousin had never met a challenge she would back down from, and she wouldn't back down from this. "Rose snogged Scorpius after _knowing_ how I felt about him…"

For the first time in a very long time, Rose stopped listening and started watching everyone's faces. Victoire winced a little and looked off to the side awkwardly. Al rolled his eyes yet again. Her aunt looked at her mum, who gave a barely-noticeable nod. Then she leaned forward to look at Rose, who gave her the most _unapologetic_ shrug that she could muster.

As of yesterday, she was no longer sorry.

Well, she hadn't been _that _sorry before then either…

Then Aunt Ginny cringed and it was the same sort that she had given to her dormmates at school when they were whinging over a wizard that wasn't interested in them. Her reaction made Rose realise yet again just how much _everyone_ knew how Scorpius felt, but not her. And then she took a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

Lily hadn't noticed any of their reactions as she was still on her soapbox. "So, I confronted her. We got into an argument and she threw me out. I went to James' to tell him what happened, and while I was there, Al came through and lit into me about how I treat everyone, especially Rose, and I don't—"

"Well..." Victoire looked highly uncomfortable. "You _do_ treat her a bit like shit, but then again, you treat us all like we're disposable. It's been about you, your plans, your dreams, and what you've got going on in your quest to take over the wizarding entertainment world. It's all you talk about and _I_ talk to you every day, Lily. You've never once asked about me. And that's fine, I'm used to it, but don't fool yourself into thinking that you're innocent."

"You're _defending_ her?" Lily looked so betrayed. Al rolled his eyes. Rose, meanwhile, was too stunned by her cousin's interference to really say anything at all.

"I'm not defending _anyone_." Victoire made a hand gesture to further emphasise her declaration. "I'm simply stating facts. Rose is… well, who Rose has _always_ been: annoyed by every living thing on the planet, except _Scorpius_. But honestly, she's _far_ more tolerant of the way you always criticise everything about her than _I_ would have ever been. You only deal with any of us when you want something—"

Lily looked angry, but it was the sputtering kind where she didn't know where to launch her tirade because she'd been thrown a lot of points she couldn't fend off at once. "I don't treat—"

Rose had no intentions of sitting there any longer. She was more than exhausted with the entire topic and just wanted to watch Scorpius play Quidditch and then see a film and have ice-cream. She didn't want to be bothered with any of this. Not today. While Scorpius was right that one day she would have to deal with Lily, he was also correct when he said it didn't have to be that day, that it could be on her terms in her own way.

However, she had no intention of staying quiet.

"In the interest of time, Aunt Ginny, I'll tell you what she said because she won't confess to it herself." Rose looked directly at her cousin. "_You_ told me that everyone thought I was a fuck up and a waste of potential. That everything that happened to me at the Ministry was _my _fault."

From the corner of her eye, she could see her aunt and cousin visibly recoil.

"You told me that I wasn't up to anyone's standards, that I had _nothing_ to offer Scorpius or his family. You told me that I'm not good enough—" Rose took a deep breath. "And _now_ you're trying to put the blame on me again. And, okay, you know _normally_, I would take it. I would because you're a _goddamn_ nightmare and it's easier, but I told you already, I'm _done_—"

"Lily, she's your cousin, how could you _say_ that to her?" Aunt Ginny asked, looking upset.

"But she—"

"No matter how you spin it, you're wrong," Al cut his sister off. "You need to apologise."

When Rose unfolded her legs and stood up, her mum gave her a little nod and a smile, and she made a decision. "Even if it were sincere, I don't want her apology. I don't _need_ it."

And more than that, Rose knew that despite her own issues, she knew that to the people who mattered most, she _was _good enough. That was all she needed. She noticed her uncle pumping his fist in victory and then heard Dominique blow her whistle, which ended the game and stopped the conversation. _For now_, judging from the intense looks her aunt was giving her younger cousin.

"Looks like Harry's caught the snitch," her mum said in the silence.

And without looking back, Rose went to catch her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes Act Two of this fic. Someone asked me in a review how long it's gonna be and I'm like "AH, I have no idea." Maybe 10 chapters? 12? Maybe less? All I know is that I've got one more Act to go, where we tackle our last thing. That damn dagger. And a blossoming relationship with all its complexities and FLUFF...and angst. But we made it! I'm not gonna lie, I've started the next chapter, but it's like 2k... but slowly growing. My muse clunked me over the head so now I'm actually writing my next Dramione fic so *shrugs* and I'm going through the rigorous edits of a fest fic that turned into a mini-monster, and I signed up for Fluff Fest...because I didn't need anything else on my plate. *hysterical laughter* But while this is on the forefront of my brain, I'm silently freaking out because we're getting to the good part and I'm trying to make sure I do it right rather than quick, which makes me marinate on it. A lot. *sweats* So, with all that being said, I'm working on it...and everything else, lmao. You all be safe out there, and be kind to one another. Banner by K Writes Dramione (bugghead)
> 
> xoxo
> 
> inadaze22

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


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